Four walls,
One bed,
One dresser,
One window,
One door.
But I'm in the middle of it.
But at this hour-
Which seems to be every hour.
The walls begin to close in.
The bed gets replaced by a noose,
In the middle of the room.
The dresser became a stool.
The window appears to have bars on it.
The door's handle falls off.
I get locked in,
Slowly getting pushed towards the noose.
Two options.
Stay, don't move,
You can't escape the inevitable,
Bide your time.
Or.
Do it yourself, avoiding all of the potential pain and heart ache.
YOU ARE READING
Shit poems, by a shit person
Poetry~~~~~ Some of these poems are old, some are new. Trigger warning for some of them. ~~~~ Poems labeled with "x, xx, "etc. is just because I have no idea what to name them. Deal with it. ~~~~~ I use this to cope/ express how I'm feeling and stuff
