In my room,
there is not sheets nor bed,
but a box,
confining me within its boundaries.
Bars against windows,
strange creatures calling my name,
"Harry Potter!"
Dressed in cloth I do not have.
A car is outside,
carrying freedom, flight.
Ron is here.
YOU ARE READING
To Nowhere
Poesía|| a book of poems || This is a twisting, turning oblivion of madness. This is watching the sun touch the horizon and wishing for your hopes and dreams to appear among the stars. This is the road to nowhere.
