You said I may as well
Be in jail
Because I spend
So long in my room.

I didn't go outside today
You said at least
Prisoners go outside
For fresh air once
A day.

Well sure,
I'll be a prisoner,
If you'd like.
I practically am.

This house is a prison
I'm monitored
Asked to work
Do this
Do that
If the things I do
Are "nothing" to you
Or not up to your standard
Of being worthy
Then I'm punished.

My room is my cell
It's my space
I've personalized it
I've made it mine
It feels safe
It's my choice
To spend time here.

But you still barge in
Even when the door's closed
You still demand things
You judge how I've made it
The way things look
The state its in
My own touches.
You prove it's not mine
By violating it.

Sure,
I could go outside.
But that's only
A larger
More diverse prison
Where I'm judged further
By the guards of society
I have to be alert
So I'm not abused
Or harassed
By fellow inmates.

Thanks for the metaphor,
Mother
But it doesn't matter.

I'm content
Being confined
In my cell.

l.v.s