A Collection of Poetry Book Three

White Walls

They locked me in this room.

I can’t remember when,

But sometimes I hear them.

I don’t remember what they look like;

I wouldn’t even if I had looked twice.

I feel myself dwindle every day,

So I stopped my daily routine of prayer.

There are no windows,

The door is always locked.

I get my food from a slot in the door.

The walls are all white,

It’s a terrible sight.

I used to bang my head on the wall,

But they made me stop.

Although I can’t quite recall how.

My days are numbered,

But I lost count.

All I can do is sit here

And stare at these white walls.

I know deep inside

The “tick tock” of my life.

Now the only thing on my mind

Is the white walls.