There exists a room,
Without windows,
Only walls;
It doesn’t matter how many
But it’s dark,
And feet are chained to the floor.

This room exists in everyone,
But some choose to stay closed off—
Choose to stay forgotten.

The bottle swells with pressure,
For as long as one
Could possibly contain it,
But pressure, no matter of what origin
Always leads
To an explosion,
And so explode one will,
In a cataclysm of tears,
And aching.

Each time the pressure
Lets itself break the cap,
The level rises,
And the loss
Starts at the first moment
Because the cap
Gets looser
With every time it breaks,

Until the rain from the eyes
Is covered
By the water rising,
And your vision might have
Gotten used to the dark,
But the effervescence
Of your exhales
Has blinded you,
As I’m sure you didn’t notice
How far the level had risen,

And those eyes
Never let be seen
By another pair,
Or by the sunset
Surely overtaken
By the despair that
You wouldn’t let them be seen,
But the pulmonary edema
You face has been made
By your own brokenness

Why, I must ask, did you lock yourself away?