How can these walls
have such a hold on me?
Each time I feel I'm ready
it turns a little,
tightens it's grip.
This is what I wanted.
Set my mind on:
this kitchen
this garden
this lounge
this bedroom
You were meant
to make me happy,
why now do I feel
so trapped? You mock
my material dreams,
as again you turn
and tighten.
This is not what I wanted.
Euphoniuos laughter
I heard in my mind,
returns now to taunt.
You are laughing at me;
at my foolish belief,
that your walls
could make
me happy.
YOU ARE READING
Intermission
PoesíaPoetry written many years ago. I found my voice and lost it. As a step towards recovering my voice I decided to share these poems.
