These four walls are my companions
The one window is my escape
But I still sit in this room converting my dreams into ink blots shaped like letters
I’m stagnant in my own monotony
I can hear myself chuckle at my own thoughts
My own...
Everything I have known is my own
Everything I see belongs to me…
Maybe I am the root of all of my demons
Unfortunately i am the ghost in my machine
In the end i sit alone
Documenting the same range of melancholy through my typewriter
Everyday it clacks in monotone
And everything is the same
What’s outside?
I’ve forgotten. Was I free yesterday? What about the day before?
I can’t remember anymore.
Was i typing a letter?
A note? A list?
A scrap of poetic literature to emphasis my overbearing loneliness?
Everyday I stare at the door
But I cannot muster the courage to pull upon the one object that will let me go
Life is easier here
Life can never change
Security in Monotony
Freedom encaged
My mind is free to wander and my body free to walk
My voice is free to shout
I am free to cry, to pout, to scream in anger
I am free
Maybe…
I am free...