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Tearani C Mar 2012
Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped T T
Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped  r r
Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped a a
Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped p p
Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped p p
Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped p p
Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped  e e
Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped d d
Trapped Trapped .....................  Trapped Trapped Trapped
Trapped Trapped|      I           | Trapped Trapped Trapped  
Trapped Trapped|                   |Trapped Trapped Trapped
Trapped Trapped|       AM     |Trapped Trapped Trapped
Trapped Trapped|                   |Trapped Trapped Trapped
Trapped Trapped|                   |Trapped Trapped Trapped  
Trapped Trapped ---------------- Trapped Trapped Trapped
Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped T T
Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped r r
Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped a a
Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped p p
Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped p p
Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped e e
Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped Trapped d d
I'm trapped
In a love that is so wonderful and perfect
its not real nor does it exist.
i'm trapped inside my mind and heart and soul
for they hold the Beatles and all of my favorite songs.
I'm trapped
inside on a rainy day
because you know the sound of the water hitting the ground
is one of the most beautiful melodies to my ears, its true.
i'm trapped because i want to be
because the moaning coming from your room tells me to be, i think.
i think, therefor i am, therefore i feel, therefor i writhe in pain,
like the little girl saying Daddy please don't go, don't leave me, please no.
I'm trapped because i think if i stay the exact same you'll wake up and realize that you want me,
the way i was back when you needed me,
back when you loved me,
back before she was around.
like i said, i'm trapped
trapped inside this mind that only deals in make believe and fantasies,
Cinderella stories and snow white because you know they all got their prince.
trapped inside my carriage on the way to the ball because my fairy god mother forgot to give me a handle, on life.
an escape route, a way out, a pause button,
so that when life just gets too hard to handle, i can breathe.
theres a sign on my wall that says one way, one way in, one way out
one way to misery and boy do i know that path like the back of my hand
it leads straight to your front door,
which consequently happens to be home.
i'm trapped inside my room thats right next to yours for we share
a hallway and a bathroom, and a kitchen and a living room,
physically, of course not emotionally.
trapped inside a relationship but i cant tell him the truth
for that would compromise my ability to be honest
and full disclosure is a must.
trapped inside my imagination that plays movies in my head
like all the remakes of Shakespeare's greatest,
only you **** me in the end.
trapped inside this body that is nothing more than a product of my feelings,
i used to be thin, i swear.
trapped at the bottom of this bottle for that is what i turn to every weekend
when you sneak off with her.
i'm trapped in a corner with my head between my knees
thinking, what else could i possibly do.
i'm trapped inside this hospital, the doctor diagnosed me with an incurable disease,
they call it love.
trapped inside these restraints, my hands and feet, and tongue, for i cannot tell you the truth.
now you're trapped inside the waiting room
with mourning loved ones and horrible coffee
awaiting the fate of a truly terrible friend.
i'm trapped inside the thought that you think i was only there because i was in love with you,
its not true, you were my best friend and i was yours and ****** we were good together.
i'm trapped because i know i will never survive
but you, you were always so much stronger than me
i know you'll be fine,
so you can call it, time of death: 1:29.
Chase Alexander Dec 2017
Hi, my name is Chase
and I live within your life.
All I am is just a lie.
I'll never sacrifice.
Suicide is king
and I'm the ******* queen.
Don't wanna be a girl.
Do you know what I mean?

I never tell the truth.
No, my fears get in the way.
It's happened once before,
but I guess I'll never change.
Scars will start to cover me.
Legs onto my wrist.
Punching holes into your soul.
Make contact with your fist.

I am just so used to it,
but god I want to stop.
But boy if I told you the truth
I'd lose you on the spot.
Sometimes I just wanna die.
Drown in my blood and tears.
I say that I fear nothing,
but you are my only fear.

So, down I will go spiraling.
I'll just keep on conspiring.
I will never tell the truth.
There is just too much to lose.

Trapped in lies.
Trapped in lies.
I'm trapped inside.
Throw the truth aside.
Trapped in lies.
I'll always hide.

Cut myself wide open.
Try to let it out.
But the moment that I see you
my head it fills with doubt.
It could never work.
I just cannot be me.
I'm sorry to say boy
you aren't the golden key.

You're not the key to happiness
for I do not believe.
But still I have to smile.
Make me fall down to my knees.
I smile on the outside,
but trapped inside I cry.
I look like I live life,
but my one hope is to die.

Trapped in lies.
Trapped in lies.
I'm trapped inside.
Throw the truth aside.
Trapped in lies.
I'll always hide.

You look at me with love.
I look at you with sorrow.
This lie will never end.
It still goes on tomorrow.
It's a never ending nightmare.
I wish it were a dream.
Sick of my life cheating.
Falling apart at the seams.

I wish I'd never started.
Now, it's too late to go back.
The past is not the present,
but my future looks too black.

I know you want to make this work,
but take a look at me.
Everything you see
isn't what it seems to be.
I am just a lie.
I am living through your life.
So, baby please just end it.
Yes, end my lies tonight.

Trapped in lies.
Trapped in lies.
I'm trapped inside.
Throw the truth aside.
Trapped in lies.
I'll always hide.

I am just so tired.
I want to stop the act.
Don't know why I started.
All I know is I lost track.
I lost track of the time
and all the memories.
I don't even know
who the **** I'm supposed to be.

Got caught up in my lies.
Don't know how to let go.
Hardly even anybody
really even knows.
I hardly know myself.
Now, isn't that sad?
Cuz I hardly know you
and it's driving me mad.

And the anger inside
turns me into a beast.
Pulls me inside.
Now, I'm a killing machine.
This is the side of me I never let show.
But is it the real me?
He ******* hopes so.

I guess I'll just keep lying
to you and to myself.
I guess I'll tell my lies
to everybody else.
Maybe one day
I'll find the guts to change.
But for now I'll keep lying.
Keep you out of my range.

Trapped in lies.
Trapped in lies.
I'm trapped inside.
Throw the truth aside.
Trapped in lies.
I'll always hide.
This poem was made before I came out as a Trans Man. I tried so hard to be a normal women. But it just wasn't me.
Alaina Moore Mar 2021
Slave to money
No time for fun
Make that money
At least 18 years
Self sacrificed
For the good of the family
Don't know myself
Can't feel anymore
Can't eat anymore
Like I'm in a zoo
Can't speak my truth
Can't escape my abuse
Alone in a crowded room
No energy to speak of
Gave away all I am
All that's left.
I see your face through the window pane
    the glass is cracked
and your image is blurred.
Even from this distance, I see your pain
  and I wonder if my tears my heard.
This window frame surrounds my dreams,
    the pane conceals my pain.
It seems as if the seams around this glass
      get stronger everyday.
Keeping me away from the one thing
      that makes my life worth living.
          You on the outside,  
Staring at me on the inside.
    Reaching through this foggy view,
It's hard to see,  it hurts to know
       we can't reach our destiny.

I'm trapped in here, you're trapped out there.
It's clear to us that fate don't care.
I'm trapped by these walls and you can't get in.
Unfortunately, I can see my destiny,
      but we can't begin.

You've tried to break through,
    I've tried to break out.
I scream your name,
    but you can't hear a sound.
You can see these tears streaming down,
I see you fall to the ground and reach for me
     but I'm nowhere around.
This pain is so real, the pain is too thick.
I write your name out in the fog
        as you stand there in the mist.
I need you in here, I crave your touch.
   All this pain,
       It's just TOO MUCH!

I'm trapped in here, you're trapped out there.
It's clear to us that fate don't care.
I'm trapped by these walls and you can't get in.
Unfortunately, I can see my destiny,
      but we can't begin.

I can't take this, not one more day,
our love is too strong, there must be a way.
So, we're standing here, face to face,
    eyes locked through the window pane.
You raise your hands up to mine
   and we smash that glass one last time.
Slowly, it starts to splinter down
and all the shards fall to the ground.

Now, we're trapped together,
    In each other's arms.
Trapped forever, away from harm.
Trapped in love for all time,
    Trapped in love within our hearts.
Fortunately, I've found my destiny,
      Now we can start.
Song. Soon to be recorded on SoundCloud.
Written for my long distance love, we'll be together soon babe. ❤
Fred Tabitha Feb 2019
Shattered little girl
Trapped in her own world
Trapped behind her masks
Trapped in the past (in the past in the past)

Shattered little girl
Right down to the core
Couldn't fight it anymore
Couldn't see through the storm

Shattered little girl
Trapped in her own head
Demons out instead
Demons in her head

Shattered little girl
Trapped behind her masks
Can't find any cracks
Shattered by the past

Shattered little girl
Even her personality
It’s a mask
Can’t find any cracks

Shattered little girl
Trapped in her own world
Her own personal hell
Best not to dwell
It’s her personal hell

Shattered little girl
Trapped in the past
How long can i last
Trapped in the past(in the past in the past)

Shattered little girl
Trapped in her own world
Trapped inside her head
Demons out for you instead

Shattered little girl
Her heart breaks
Every time her demons escape
She's so afraid

Shattered little girl
Waiting for the cure
Couldn't fight it anymore
Couldn't see through the storm

Shattered little girl
Trapped in her own world
Trapped behind her masks
Trapped in the past (in the past in the past)
I've been looking for an escape for 3810 days still there's no way out. Once you're in, you're in. Don't even try to shout. That's when time stops and all eyes are on you. The crowd draws closer to you and closer to you, until you can't breathe. They will mound it on your chest, stich it in your heart, burn it into your mind. Your label Your creed. Mine is still undetermined. There's too many flaws to choose from, but trapped is the most popular one. I am trapped in an invisible straight jacket due to my wild imagination. I am trapped, forced to listen to lies. I am trapped in a bubble of isolation. I refuse to listen to the lies I was told in the world I lived in at age four, where the biggest let down was if I didn't get a cookie. There was no such thing as war, but that world was taken from me, just as I was taken from them. Now I'm trapped in a world where no one listens. No one will listen to me, when I got trapped here I was that idiot who shouted and now they think I'm crazy. Well I'm not!....Okay, okay, okay, a little insane maybe. Yet it makes me stronger. It's my tool to survive even longer, longer than I should have to live. They keep me trapped here because apparently I have so much love to give, but I will give and I will give until I run out. Then go back to stage one... Try not to shout. But until then I'm trapped in a world where pretty seems better, in a world where heterosexual is the norm. I'm trapped in a world where my heart has been shattered, stomped on, and torn. Here.... it's here out of all places in the universe, it's here that I am **TRAPPED
TK Jun 2016
Every time I give in, I wrap my strength in a layer of confinement.
Starting to feel restrained again.
Trying to free myself with poison.
Trying to escape but no.
Not only imprisoned.
But stuck, lost and out of options.
I sip to escape.
I do for a while until the next morning and again.
I used to smoke crack.
And not long after, my escape reformed.
Exercise, another escape.
Yet my negative mind captured me back in its grasp.
Writing, one of my strengths.
Yet all I can write about is being...
Emeka Mokeme Dec 2018
Why do I
feel so trapped
in this crazy-busy
world of illusion
filled with
unimaginable confusion.
Trapped in love,
with the pain
of not having
love reciprocated.
Trapped in the
anger I feel
over the stupidity
of the old
bald heads
holding everyone
to ransom.
Trapped in this
bizarre mediocre
lifestyle that I hated.
Trapped in the
fear of being
lost without anyone
to rescue me.
Trapped in this
frail body
wondering why
I'm not a
superman with
incredible tremendous
abilities to make
indelible impact
in the world,
leaving a finger print
that no one
can be able
to rub off.
Trapped in my
head of living
unfulfilled life.
Trapped in this
geographical region
of the universe
hiding everyday
from the insurgents,
dodging bullets and
seeing horrible things
not meant for
a beautiful soul,
living from hand
to mouth with
rags as a covering.
How can I  
get over all
this in my
I'm so trapped
I can't wait to
get away from
all these atrocities.
It's beyond
my comprehension.
I really need
to escape from
this trap.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
JP Dec 2015
Mom trapped
in kitchen

Dad trapped
in business

grandpa trapped
in politics

grandma trapped
in religion

sister trapped
in mobile

brother trapped
in net

home trapped
in loan

happiness trapped
in health

life trapped
in commitment

love trapped
in eyes

words trapped
in poets…
Classy J Jun 2022
My heart has become a revolving door,
Don’t know who I am anymore.
Feel like I’m empty to the core,
Never satisfied, always wanting more.
How can it be?
That the richest person,
Can still be poor?

My minds a minefield,
But I’m not prepared for war.
Nooooo, woah oo yeah.
Was not prepared for war!

Yeah, I’m trapped in a war!
Trapped in a war!
Yeah, yeah!
Feeling empty,
Yet always wanting more,
Always wanting more.
Yeah, yeah!

I’m just trapped in a war!
Trapped in a war!
Yeah, Yeah!
Feeling empty,
Yet always wanting more,
Always wanting more.
Yeah, yeah!

Trapped in my mind,
With these mines all around me.
Let out a cry for help,
Hoping someone comes and finds me.
I’m so broken and so lost.
Yeah I’m lonely.
Not designed to be confined,
With these thoughts of suicide,
Yeah they haunt me.
And I know it’s unhealthy,
To keep all these emotions locked inside,
Because I know it’ll **** me.
But it’s hard to open up,
To those who don’t even know the real me.
Especially when I don’t even know,
Who the hell is the real me.
Don’t even know the real me.

Trapped in a prison,
Of my own making.
Caged to the world,
Curled up into a ball,
Overthinking my flaws,
It can be so, **** grating!
My hearts become a jigsaw,
How much more can it keep breaking?
And when I close my eyes,
Apart of me hopes,
that I wont be reawakening.
Wondering when I lost the ability,
Of chasing dreams?
Wondering when was the last time I smiled,
And it actually meant something?

My minds a minefield,
But I’m not prepared for war.
Nooooo, woah oo yeah.
Was not prepared for war!

Yeah, I’m trapped in a war!
Trapped in a war!
Yeah, yeah!
Feeling empty,
Yet always wanting more,
Always wanting more.
Yeah, yeah!

I’m just trapped in a war!
Trapped in a war!
Yeah, Yeah!
Feeling empty,
Yet always wanting more,
Always wanting more.
Yeah, yeah!
Michaela Ferris Feb 2014
Trapped in a world
So cruel and vile.
Bitter twisted sorrows
Lies told by the world.
Trapped in a cage
So cold and icy.
Lies cut into my skin
Etched into my mind.

Trapped inside my head
So twisted an dark.
Bitter sweet nightmares
Monsters unfurling.
Trapped inside a clouded mind
So evil and fake.
Bleeding out abandonment
Longing to belong.

Trapped inside a nightmare
Crying for a meaning
Longing to be wanted somewhere
Bleeding to feel something.
Trapped inside hell
Wanting an escape
Knowing I have no chance
I'm ending my so called life.
I feel so trapped,
Trapped by circumstance
Trapped my my own heart,
My own fears.
My own desires.
Trapped by my life
But life is suppose to be free

I don't feel free

I feel trapped by judgement.
And the opinions of others

Trapped by a future I've lived out
In my head a million times

Trapped by the idea I may not have that future

I just need you to help set me free

Set me free and show me,
Show me what it's like to fly
Show me what it feels like to be loved.
im trapped inside my own mind
and bound
i try to set myself free,
but i
stumble blindly
back into the darkn dungon
wet by my tears,slick by my slit wrist.
i try to untie my thoughts that haunt
me .memories that chase me ,
visions flashbacks,anxiety,tense
as i crawl through them .
im trapped.
i sink slowly as the night draws near.
and waiting
to be rescued from myself.
but im trapped
in a cage that i built around me .
Jay Dec 2017
There are wings
Trapped beneath
My fragile skin

There are stars
Trapped beneath
My blue-green eyes

There are demons
Trapped beneath
My light hair

There are forests
Trapped beneath
My rib cage

There are supernovas
Trapped beneath
My fingertips

There are all these
Wild, wonderful, beautiful
Things trapped within me

But instead,
All that comes out is
Ugly, awful, hideous

I wish you could
See my stars and forests
I wish we could explore them
I wish that I could
Show someone my wings
And fly to the supernovas
That resides in my fingertips

I want to show
All these stunning things
But they are
Just like me
The demons are not wonderful or beautiful. They are monstrous, treacherous and vile. I wish to let them out so they are not trapped within me any longer but I could never let them out for fear they'd hurt someone else. I suppose some things are meant to be trapped.
Elizabeth Burns Jan 2016
But, she is trapped.
She is Pleading
To escape
For her final show
To receive her clamorous applause
To give one last beaming smile
To the adoring crowds...

She is trapped
She adorns the shackles
With her weak, weary hands
That are tired
Tired of writing
Nonsensical bitter words
Of heartache
And of missing him

She is sick of it
She is sick of being trapped by you
Because you were the one that put her into this **** mess
You were the one who inspired her
You were her **** muse

But, what she glanced away from
Were the shackles
That you imprisoned her in
She is trapped by you
Trapped by her misery
By the loss

I wish you would just leave my head
I wonder why we ever met
Yes, yes, you made me write again
And, yes, you took me out of that abyss
That pit of nothingness

However, you've pushed me back in there.
It hurts more this time
Because this time I'm in shackles
In this pit
Trapped by you
I see you above me
Malice in your eyes
That once beautiful soul with malicious intent now evident in your eyes
Those brown eyes behind long lashes that took my breath away

And I wonder if you'll ever read this...
if you do,
I want you to know that you were the most beautiful person I have ever met
And I wish I didn't think that still
Even though you betrayed me
And left my heart to bleed

You were the worst heartbreak
Because I'm trapped, honey
I still think of you
And my heart is wounded
It is blistered and burnt
By the fire you ignited
And left...

And not even the rain,
that sweet symphony
Can clear this land
Of ashes and trials...
And burnt flesh.

I am trapped
In these shackles
Burnt by you...

**But, this phoenix will be born
She will come out of the ashes
And she will break your chains
She will no longer be trapped
And she will scream her name
Flying with blazing, orange wings
Out of your imprisonment
She will leave behind
That black pit with nothing but,        
broken shackles.
Destiny C Dec 2016
Trapped inside a box.
Everywhere I look,
I see confined emptiness.
My limbs are yearning for a moment's stretch.
Trapped inside a box.
My arms are rendered useless,
as they lay squeezed against my sides.
My neck is straining in it's cramped position.
Trapped inside a box.
I cannot breathe,
my heart pounds against my chest hoping for freedom,
How can one be trapped inside of a small box, when their body is in the midst of a wide open plain?
It is a box.
A box that cripples rationality ,
trapping you.
Dakota Feb 2019
I am trapped in a red hot box of anger
Trapped! Away from the calm cooling air
I am trapped in this place I am not myself
Trapped! It's getting harder to breathe
Trapped! If I don't get out I might explode
But it wouldn't matter no one would hear
I am trapped in my head
Trapped here
Aditya Shankar Apr 2015
Imagine being a trapped fly
Resigning to a trapped life.
Your limbs flail about in despair
Your wings buzz in a futile escape attempt.
Indignation at first, that rapidly fades
Into confusion, anxiety, fear clutching your insides
Till you lose all hope, silently wait to die
And you realise
It's the same scared light you see in man's eyes.
Imagine...being a trapped fly
Resigning to a trapped life.
Jessica Burgess Dec 2016
I feel trapped
For I'm stuck at school
I feel trapped
For I follow the rules
I feel trapped
For I don't belong
I feel trapped
So I write some songs
I feel trapped
when I'm alone
I feel trapped
When I dream of a throne
Kassidy Clayton Jan 2016
I like here in this gilded cage
On a bed made of feathers
But no comfort is made
This bed might as well be metal or stone
No matter how luxurious this cage is
I am still trapped

Food made for the feast every night
Exotic and scrumptious
At least that's what I've heard
Because it tastes like rocks and sand to me
I swallow the lumps down one by one
No matter how good the food is,
I am still trapped

Entertainment of the finest kind
Laughter and joy all around
But the performers might as well be dancing skeletons
I watch the bones shake to the audiences laughter
The most I can fake is a small smile
No matter how good they perform
I am still trapped

But I envy these performers and these guests at this feast
They can leave whenever they want
They think I live in a dream house,
Free to do whatever I please
In reality I am the performer here
Forced to abide by the rules of Her
She keeps me trapped here

So no matter how nice the gowns are,
How big the castle is,
How amazing my life looks,
The truth is I am trapped

I'd rather live in a smelly corner
Surrounded by dirt and swine
Then live here another second

Because at least then I won't be trapped
So as I fall asleep that night
I dream of the word
That keeps me going from day to day,
The one word She can never take away
As the darkness starts to pull me under for those
Blissful hours, I find myself whispering my hope
I am trapped by my own ideology,
Stuck between a rock and a hard place:
What I want and who I want to be.

How can I choose which is better for me?

One, a desire – a hunger, a burning passion that is mine. It has become a part of me, defined me, and helped craft me into who I am.

The thought of losing this desire sickens and saddens me. It is all I can think of right now, how I would be unable to grasp the warmth and pleasure.

I will miss it. It will always be on my mind, always somewhere in my chest. It will be beating, gnawing, eating me alive from the inside – for I will have no way to let it out.

This is the rock, the want for which I love and enjoy and hate to lose. This is the desire that I will constantly be reminded of, that I will have to battle against – spending so much time and energy just trying not to miss it.

Unfortunately for me, my desire conflicts with who I want to be.

I want to be good and honest, helpful and holy and willing to sacrifice. I don’t want to be shallow or superficial, I don’t want to choose what I want now over what I want most.

I find it agonizing that I must choose. That I must choose to abstain from all my desires just so that I don’t lose who I am. I know that if I chose what I want over who I want to be, I don’t know where I would wind up. I fear that I would have a crisis of self, in wondering what it is that I am working for, hunting for, seeking out.

Choosing who I want to be has its many rewards, it is a reward in itself. It will bring me laughter and joy, love and happiness. It will bring security and warmth to my life.

But all the while, I’ll be wishing I could have my desire as well. I’ll be constantly fighting off the will to let in, to let loose, to plunge back into the pleasure that I currently have. All the while I’ll just be waiting to find that pleasure again. It will cloud my thoughts, my wants, my needs. It will become a gnawing hunger in my chest that I will have to learn to ignore.

I already know what my choice will be – it is the only one I can make. I know I must choose to be who I want to be, because I won’t be able to live with myself otherwise. I am trapped, pinned by ideology. I can’t risk losing the joy of WHO I want, for the pleasure of WHAT I want. I am trapped.

I feel an aching in my chest, a sadness at having put myself in this position. I feel a sadness in knowing that I don't really have a choice in the matter. A sense of defeat clouds what should be joy and elation - I am no longer in control of what I want.
Rebel Heart May 2014
As the wind rushes by the trees,
The birds go chirping, buzz go the bees,
And the salty air lingers by the seas.

Though I yearn to touch the sun,
And wish to have some fun,
I am trapped and cannot run.

Run from darkness I desire,
But I'm already consumed by this deadly fire,
And am trapped in my room like a flat tire.

The doors are wide open an no chains hold me in place,
But I'm just tired of running this way-too-long race,
And I no longer want to face,
This "wonderful" world of greed and no grace.

Trapped I am and trapped I'll stay,
For the world refuses to change its ways,
And I can't handle anymore false rays,
Plus I can't do anything to help anyways.
This is a poem on a person who gave up on the world and just stays trapped in his/her room. Hopefully, this person isn't you because it's us who can change this world if we really try. :)
Amanda Woolums May 2014
I'm trapped.
I can't escape.
It's getting hard to breathe.

Darkness is overcoming me.
I can't speak.
When I try nothing comes out.

She holds me down.
She keeps me here.
Her lies empower me.

I am broken.
I am trapped.
There's no one to hear me cry.
Alicia Jan 2015
Why do I feel so trapped,
when I'm so free?

Free to do what I choose with my life,
But trapped, chained to the expectations of society.

Poetic T Aug 2014
Trapped in this place
In place of no walls
I wish to leave,
Time is endless
For the snow always falls
In this place where
Time never moves,
Where it just snows,
I'm trapped between
the outside and the in,
I wish to break out, to be free,
Let me smash my invisible prison
So that I may roam,
Not trapped between walls I can not see..
Inspired By Lindsey Sterling awesome violin player Check out shadow on YouTube and shatter me...

Who wanted me
to go to Chicago
on January 6th?
I did!

The night before,
20 below zero
with the wind chill;
as the blizzard of 99
lay in mountains
of blackening snow.

I packed two coats,
two suits,
three sweaters,
multiple sets of long johns
and heavy white socks
for a two-day stay.

I left from Newark.
**** the denseness,
it confounds!

The 2nd City to whom?
2nd ain’t bad.
It’s pretty good.
If you consider
Peking and Prague,
Tokyo and Togo,
Manchester and Moscow,
Port Au Prince and Paris,
Athens and Amsterdam,
Buenos Aries and Johannesburg;
that’s pretty good.

What’s going on here today?
It’s friggin frozen.
To the bone!

But Chi Town is still cool.
Buddy Guy’s is open.
Bartenders mixing drinks,
cabbies jamming on their breaks,
honey dew waitresses serving sugar,
buildings swerving,
fire tongued preachers are preaching
and the farmers are measuring the moon.

The lake,
unlike Ontario
is in the midst of freezing.
Bones of ice
threaten to gel
into a solid mass
over the expanse
of the Michigan Lake.
If this keeps up,
you can walk
clear to Toronto
on a silver carpet.

Along the shore
the ice is permanent.
It’s the first big frost
of winter
after a long
Indian Summer.

Thank God
I caught a cab.
Outside I hear
The Hawk
nippin hard.
It’ll get your ear,
finger or toe.
Bite you on the nose too
if you ain’t careful.

Thank God,
I’m not walking
the Wabash tonight;
but if you do cover up,
wear layers.

could this be
Sandburg’s City?

I’m overwhelmed
and this is my tenth time here.

It’s almost better,
sometimes it is better,
a lot of times it is better
and denser then New York.

Ask any Bull’s fan.
I’m a Knickerbocker.
Yes Nueva York,
a city that has placed last
in the standings
for many years.
Except the last two.
Yanks are # 1!

But Chicago
is a dynasty,
as big as
Sammy Sosa’s heart,
rich and wide
as Michael Jordan’s grin.

Middle of a country,
center of a continent,
smack dab in the mean
of a hemisphere,
vortex to a world,

Kansas City,
St. Louis,
New Orleans,
Mexico City
and Montreal
salute her.

A collection of vanities?
Engineered complex utilitarianism?
The need for community a social necessity?
Ego one with the mass?
Civilization’s latest *******?
Chicago is more then that.

Jefferson’s yeoman farmer
is long gone
but this capitol
of the Great Plains
is still democratic.

The citizen’s of this city
would vote daily,
if they could.

Sandburg’s Chicago,
Could it be?

The namesake river
segments the city,
canals of commerce,
all perpendicular,
is rife throughout,
still guiding barges
to the Mississippi
and St. Laurence.

Now also
tourist attractions
for a cafe society.

Chicago is really jazzy,
swanky clubs,
big steaks,
juices and drinks.

You get the best
coffee from Seattle
and the finest teas
from China.

Great restaurants
serve liquid jazz
al la carte.

Jazz Jazz Jazz
All they serve is Jazz
Rock me steady
Keep the beat
Keep it flowin
Feel the heat!

Jazz Jazz Jazz
All they is, is Jazz
Fast cars will take ya
To the show
Round bout midnight
Where’d the time go?

Flows into the Mississippi,
the mother of America’s rivers,
an empires aorta.

Great Lakes wonder of water.
Niagara Falls
still her heart gushes forth.

Buffalo connected to this holy heart.
Finger Lakes and Adirondacks
are part of this watershed,
all the way down to the
Delaware and Chesapeake.

Sandburg’s Chicago?
Oh my my,
the wonder of him.
Who captured the imagination
of the wonders of rivers.

Down stream other holy cities
from the Mississippi delta
all mapped by him.

Its mouth our Dixie Trumpet
guarded by righteous Cajun brethren.

Midwest from where?
It’s north of Caracas and Los Angeles,
east of Fairbanks,
west of Dublin
and south of not much.

who spoke of honest men
and loving women.
Working men and mothers
bearing citizens to build a nation.
The New World’s
precocious adolescent
caught in a stream
of endless and exciting change,
much pain and sacrifice,
dedication and loss,
pride and tribulations.

From him we know
all the people’s faces.
All their stories are told.
Never defeating the
idea of Chicago.

Sandburg had the courage to say
what was in the heart of the people, who:

Defeated the Indians,
Mapped the terrain,
Aided slavers,
Fought a terrible civil war,
Hoisted the barges,
Grew the food,
Whacked the wheat,
Sang the songs,
Fought many wars of conquest,
Cleared the land,
Erected the bridges,
Trapped the game,
Netted the fish,
Mined the coal,
Forged the steel,
Laid the tracks,
Fired the tenders,
Cut the stone,
Mixed the mortar,
Plumbed the line,
And laid the bricks
Of this nation of cities!

Pardon the Marlboro Man shtick.
It’s a poor expostulation of
crass commercial symbolism.

Like I said, I’m a
Devil Fan from Jersey
and Madison Avenue
has done its work on me.

It’s a strange alchemy
that changes
a proud Nation of Blackhawks
into a merchandising bonanza
of hometown hockey shirts,
making the native seem alien,
and the interloper at home chillin out,
warming his feet atop a block of ice,
guzzling Old Style
with clicker in hand.

Give him his beer
and other diversions.
If he bowls with his buddy’s
on Tuesday night
I hope he bowls
a perfect game.

He’s earned it.
He works hard.
Hard work and faith
built this city.

And it’s not just the faith
that fills the cities
thousand churches,
temples and
mosques on the Sabbath.

There is faith in everything in Chicago!

An alcoholic broker named Bill
lives the Twelve Steps
to banish fear and loathing
for one more day.
Bill believes in sobriety.

A tug captain named Moe
waits for the spring thaw
so he can get the barges up to Duluth.
Moe believes in the seasons.

A farmer named Tom
hopes he has reaped the last
of many bitter harvests.
Tom believes in a new start.

A homeless man named Earl
wills himself a cot and a hot
at the local shelter.
Earl believes in deliverance.

A Pullman porter
named George
works overtime
to get his first born
through medical school.
George believes in opportunity.

A folk singer named Woody
sings about his
countrymen inheritance
and implores them to take it.
Woody believes in people.

A Wobbly named Joe
organizes fellow steelworkers
to fight for a workers paradise
here on earth.
Joe believes in ideals.

A bookkeeper named Edith
is certain she’ll see the Cubs
win the World Series
in her lifetime.
Edith believes in miracles.

An electrician named ****
saves money
to bring his family over from Gdansk.
**** believes in America.

A banker named Leah
knows Ditka will return
and lead the Bears
to another Super Bowl.
Leah believes in nostalgia.

A cantor named Samuel
prays for another 20 years
so he can properly train
his Temple’s replacement.

Samuel believes in tradition.
A high school girl named Sally
refuses to get an abortion.
She knows she carries
something special within her.
Sally believes in life.

A city worker named Mazie
ceaselessly prays
for her incarcerated son
doing 10 years at Cook.
Mazie believes in redemption.

A jazzer named Bix
helps to invent a new art form
out of the mist.
Bix believes in creativity.

An architect named Frank
restores the Rookery.
Frank believes in space.

A soldier named Ike
fights wars for democracy.
Ike believes in peace.

A Rabbi named Jesse
sermonizes on Moses.
Jesse believes in liberation.

Somewhere in Chicago
a kid still believes in Shoeless Joe.
The kid believes in
the integrity of the game.

An Imam named Louis
is busy building a nation
within a nation.
Louis believes in

A teacher named Heidi
gives all she has to her students.
She has great expectations for them all.
Heidi believes in the future.

Does Chicago have a future?

This city,
full of cowboys
and wildcatters
is predicated
on a future!

Bang, bang
Shoot em up
Stake the claim
It’s your terrain
Drill the hole
Strike it rich
Top it off
You’re the boss
Take a chance
Watch it wane
Try again
Heavenly gains

city of futures
is a Holy Mecca
to all day traders.

Their skin is gray,
hair disheveled,
loud ties and
funny coats,
thumb through
slips of paper
held by nail
chewed hands.
Selling promises
with no derivative value
for out of the money calls
and in the money puts.
Strike is not a labor action
in this city of unionists,
but a speculators mark,
a capitalist wish,
a hedgers bet,
a public debt
and a farmers
fair return.

Indexes for everything.
Quantitative models
that could burst a kazoo.

You know the measure
of everything in Chicago.
But is it truly objective?
Have mathematics banished
subjective intentions,
routing it in fair practice
of market efficiencies,
a kind of scientific absolution?

I heard that there
is a dispute brewing
over the amount of snowfall
that fell on the 1st.

The mayor’s office,
using the official city ruler
measured 22”
of snow on the ground.

The National Weather Service
says it cannot detect more
then 17” of snow.

The mayor thinks
he’ll catch less heat
for the trains that don’t run
the buses that don’t arrive
and the schools that stand empty
with the addition of 5”.

The analysts say
it’s all about capturing liquidity.

can you place a great lake
into an eyedropper?

Its 20 below
and all liquid things
are solid masses
or a gooey viscosity at best.

Water is frozen everywhere.
But Chi town is still liquid,
flowing faster
then the digital blips
flashing on the walls
of the CBOT.

are never frozen in Chicago.
The exchanges trade
without missing a beat.

Trading wet dreams,
the crystallized vapor
of an IPO
pledging a billion points
of Internet access
or raiding the public treasuries
of a central bank’s
huge stores of gold
with currency swaps.

Using the tools
of butterfly spreads
and candlesticks
to achieve the goal.

Short the Russell
or buy the Dow,
go long the
CAC and DAX.
Are you trading in euro’s?
You better be
or soon will.
I know
you’re Chicago,
you’ll trade anything.
and Leaps
are traded here,
along with sweet crude,
North Sea Brent,
plywood and T-Bill futures;
and most importantly
the commodities,
the loam
that formed this city
of broad shoulders.

What about our wheat?
Still whacking and
breadbasket to the world.

an important fossil fuel
denominated in
good ole greenbacks.

not just hogwash
on the Wabash,
but bacon, eggs
and flapjacks
are on the menu
of every diner in Jersey
as the “All American.”

our contribution
to the Golden Triangle,
once the global currency
used to enrich a
gentlemen class
of cultured
southern slavers,
now Tommy Hilfiger’s
preferred fabric.

I think he sends it
to Bangkok where
child slaves
spin it into
gold lame'.

I think its hardy.

the new age substitute
for hamburger
goes great with tofu lasagna.

ADM creates ethanol,
they want us to drive cleaner cars.

once driven into this city’s
bloodhouses for slaughter,
now ground into
a billion Big Macs
every year.

When does a seed
become a commodity?
When does a commodity
become a future?
When does a future expire?

You can find the answers
to these questions in Chicago
and find a fortune in a hole in the floor.

Look down into the pits.
Hear the screams of anguish
and profitable delights.

Frenzied men
swarming like a mass
of epileptic ants
atop the worlds largest sugar cube
auger the worlds free markets.

The scene is
more chaotic then
100 Haymarket Square Riots
multiplied by 100
1968 Democratic Conventions.

Amidst inverted anthills,
they scurry forth and to
in distinguished
black and red coats.

Fighting each other
as counterparties
to a life and death transaction.

This is an efficient market
that crosses the globe.

Oil from the Sultan of Brunei,
Yen from the land of Hitachi,
Long Bonds from the Fed,
nickel from Quebec,
platinum and palladium
from Siberia,
FTSE’s from London
and crewel cane from Havana
circle these pits.

and Istanbul's
best traders
are only half as good
as the average trader in Chicago.

this hog butcher to the world,
specializes in packaging and distribution.

Men in blood soaked smocks,
still count the heads
entering the gates of the city.

Their handiwork
is sent out on barges
and rail lines as frozen packages
of futures
waiting for delivery
to an anonymous counterparty
half a world away.

This nation’s hub
has grown into the
premier purveyor
to the world;
along all the rivers,
and estuaries
it’s tentacles reach.

Sandburg’s Chicago,
is a city of the world’s people.

Many striver rows compose
its many neighborhoods.

Nordic stoicism,
Eastern European orthodoxy
and Afro-American
calypso vibrations
are three of many cords
strumming the strings
of Chicago.

Sandburg’s Chicago,
if you wrote forever
you would only scratch its surface.

People wait for trains
to enter the city from O’Hare.
Frozen tears
lock their eyes
onto distant skyscrapers,
solid chunks
of snot blocks their nose
and green icicles of slime
crust mustaches.
They fight to breathe.

Sandburg’s Chicago
is The Land of Lincoln,
Savior of the Union,
protector of the Republic.
Sent armies
of sons and daughters,
barges, boxcars,
gunboats, foodstuffs,
cannon and shot
to raze the south
and stamp out succession.

Old Abe’s biography
are still unknown volumes to me.
I must see and read the great words.
You can never learn enough;
but I’ve been to Washington
and seen the man’s memorial.
The Free World’s 8th wonder,
guarded by General Grant,
who still keeps an eye on Richmond
and a hand on his sword.

Through this American winter
Abe ponders.
The vista he surveys is dire and tragic.

Our sitting President
for lying about a *******.

Party partisans
in the senate are sworn and seated.
Our Chief Justice,
adorned with golden bars
will adjudicate the proceedings.
It is the perfect counterpoint
to an ageless Abe thinking
with malice toward none
and charity towards all,
will heal the wounds
of the nation.

Abe our granite angel,
Chicago goes on,
The Union is strong!


Out my window
the sun has risen.

According to
the local forecast
its minus 9
going up to
6 today.

The lake,
a golden pillow of clouds
is frozen in time.

I marvel
at the ancients ones
and how
they mastered
these extreme elements.

Past, present and future
has no meaning
in the Citadel
of the Prairie today.

I set my watch
to Central Standard Time.

Stepping into
the hotel lobby
the concierge
with oil smooth hair,
perfect tie
and English lilt
impeccably asks,
“Do you know where you are going Sir?
Can I give you a map?”

He hands me one of Chicago.
I see he recently had his nails done.
He paints a green line
along Whacker Drive and says,
“turn on Jackson, LaSalle, Wabash or Madison
and you’ll get to where you want to go.”
A walk of 14 or 15 blocks from Streeterville-
(I start at The Chicago White House.
They call it that because Hillary Rodham
stays here when she’s in town.
Its’ also alleged that Stedman
eats his breakfast here
but Opra
has never been seen
on the premises.
I wonder how I gained entry
into this place of elite’s?)
-down into the center of The Loop.

Stepping out of the hotel,
The Doorman
sporting the epaulets of a colonel
on his corporate winter coat
and furry Cossack hat
swaddling his round black face
accosts me.

The skin of his face
is flaking from
the subzero windburn.

He asks me
with a gapped toothy grin,
“Can I get you a cab?”
“No I think I’ll walk,” I answer.
“Good woolen hat,
thick gloves you should be alright.”
He winks and lets me pass.

I step outside.
The Windy City
flings stabbing cold spears
flying on wings of 30-mph gusts.
My outside hardens.
I can feel the freeze
into my internalness.
I can’t be sure
but inside
my heart still feels warm.
For how long
I cannot say.

I commence
my walk
among the spires
of this great city,
the vertical leaps
that anchor the great lake,
holding its place
against the historic
frigid assault.

The buildings’ sway,
modulating to the blows
of natures wicked blasts.

It’s a hard imposition
on a city and its people.

The gloves,
long underwear,
and overcoat
not enough
to keep the cold
from penetrating
the person.

Like discerning
the layers of this city,
even many layers,
still not enough
to understand
the depth of meaning
of the heart
of this heartland city.

Sandburg knew the city well.
Set amidst groves of suburbs
that extend outward in every direction.
Concentric circles
surround the city.
After the burbs come farms,
Great Plains, and mountains.
Appalachians and Rockies
are but mere molehills
in the city’s back yard.
It’s terra firma
stops only at the sea.
Pt. Barrow to the Horn,
many capes extended.

On the periphery
its appendages,
its extremities,
its outward extremes.
All connected by the idea,
blown by the incessant wind
of this great nation.
The Windy City’s message
is sent to the world’s four corners.
It is a message of power.
English the worlds
common language
is spoken here,
along with Ebonics,
and more.

Always more.
Much much more
in Chicago.

spoke all the dialects.

He heard them all,
he understood
with great precision
to the finest tolerances
of a lathe workers micrometer.

Sandburg understood
what it meant to laugh
and be happy.

He understood
the working mans day,
the learned treatises
of university chairs,
the endless tomes
of the city’s
great libraries,
the lost languages
of the ancient ones,
the secret codes
of abstract art,
the impact of architecture,
the street dialects and idioms
of everymans expression of life.

All fighting for life,
trying to build a life,
a new life
in this modern world.

Walking across
the Michigan Avenue Bridge
I see the Wrigley Building
is neatly carved,
catty cornered on the plaza.

I wonder if Old Man Wrigley
watched his barges
loaded with spearmint
and double-mint
move out onto the lake
from one of those Gothic windows
perched high above the street.

Would he open a window
and shout to the men below
to quit slaking and work harder
or would he
between the snapping sound
he made with his mouth
full of his chewing gum
offer them tickets
to a ballgame at Wrigley Field
that afternoon?

Would the men below
be able to understand
the man communing
from such a great height?

I listen to a man
and woman conversing.
They are one step behind me
as we meander along Wacker Drive.

"You are in Chicago now.”
The man states with profundity.
“If I let you go
you will soon find your level
in this city.
Do you know what I mean?”

No I don’t.
I think to myself.
What level are you I wonder?
Are you perched atop
the transmission spire
of the Hancock Tower?

I wouldn’t think so
or your ears would melt
from the windburn.

I’m thinking.
Is she a kept woman?
She is majestically clothed
in fur hat and coat.
In animal pelts
not trapped like her,
but slaughtered
from farms
I’m sure.

What level
is he speaking of?

Many levels
are evident in this city;
many layers of cobbled stone,
Pennsylvania iron,
Hoosier Granite
and vertical drops.

I wonder
if I detect
in his voice?

What is
his intention?
Is it a warning
of a broken affair?
A pending pink slip?
Advise to an addict
refusing to adhere
to a recovery regimen?

What is his level anyway?
Is he so high and mighty,
Higher and mightier
then this great city
which we are all a part of,
which we all helped to build,
which we all need
in order to keep this nation
the thriving democratic
empire it is?

This seditious talk!

The Loop’s El
still courses through
the main thoroughfares of the city.

People are transported
above the din of the street,
looking down
on the common pedestrians
like me.

Super CEO’s
populating the upper floors
of Romanesque,
Greek Revivalist,
New Bauhaus,
Art Deco
and Post Nouveau
Avant-Garde towers
are too far up
to see me
shivering on the street.

The cars, busses,
trains and trucks
are all covered
with the film
of rock salt.

Salt covers
my bootless feet
and smudges
my cloths as well.

The salt,
the primal element
of the earth
covers everything
in Chicago.

It is the true level
of this city.

The layer
all layers,
on which
is built,
then dies.
To be
returned again
to the lower
where it can
take root
and grow
out onto
the great plains.

the nation,
its people
with its

A blessing,

All rivers
come here.

All things
found its way here
through the canals
and back bays
of the world’s
greatest lakes.

All roads,
rails and
air routes
begin and
end here.

Mrs. O’Leary’s cow
got a *** rap.
It did not start the fire,
we did.

We lit the torch
that flamed
the city to cinders.
From a pile of ash
Chicago rose again.

Forever Chicago!
Forever the lamp
that burns bright
on a Great Lake’s
western shore!

the beacon
sends the
message to the world
with its windy blasts,
on chugging barges,
clapping trains,
flying tandems,
T1 circuits
and roaring jets.

Sandburg knew
a Chicago
I will never know.

He knew
the rhythm of life
the people walked to.
The tools they used,
the dreams they dreamed
the songs they sang,
the things they built,
the things they loved,
the pains that hurt,
the motives that grew,
the actions that destroyed
the prayers they prayed,
the food they ate
their moments of death.

Sandburg knew
the layers of the city
to the depths
and windy heights
I cannot fathom.

The Blues
came to this city,
on the wing
of a chirping bird,
on the taps
of a rickety train,
on the blast
of an angry sax
rushing on the wind,
on the Westend blitz
of Pop's brash coronet,
on the tink of
a twinkling piano
on a paddle-wheel boat
and on the strings
of a lonely man’s guitar.

Walk into the clubs,
row houses,
and you’ll hear the Blues
whispered like
a quiet prayer.

Tidewater Blues
from Virginia,
Delta Blues
from the lower
Boogie Woogie
from Appalachia,
Texas Blues
from some Lone Star,
Big Band Blues
from Kansas City,
Blues from
Beal Street,
Jelly Roll’s Blues
from the Latin Quarter.

Hell even Chicago
got its own brand
of Blues.

Its all here.
It ended up here
and was sent away
on the winds of westerly blows
to the ear of an eager world
on strong jet streams
of simple melodies
and hard truths.

A broad
shouldered woman,
a single mother stands
on the street
with three crying babes.
Their cloths
are covered
in salt.
She pleads
for a break,
for a new start.
Poor and
against the torrent
of frigid weather
she begs for help.
Her blond hair
and ****** features
suggests her
Scandinavian heritage.
I wonder if
she is related to Sandburg
as I walk past
her on the street.
Her feet
are bleeding
through her
canvass sneakers.
Her babes mouths
are zipped shut
with frozen drivel
and mucous.

The Blues live
on in Chicago.

The Blues
will forever live in her.
As I turn the corner
to walk the Miracle Mile
I see her engulfed
in a funnel cloud of salt,
snow and bits
of white paper,
swirling around her
and her children
in an angry

The family
begins to
like a snail
sprinkled with salt;
and a mother
and her children
just disappear
into the pavement
at the corner
of Dearborn,
in Chicago.


Robert Johnson
Sweet Home Chicago

Added today to commemorate the birthday of Carl Sandburg
tiaamaariaa Jun 2014
The feeling of being trapped
Trapped in this world
This school,
Trapped in my mind.
There is no escape.
Learn, learn, learn
It is so hard to breath.
Nobody sees,
Sees how it is,
How I am,
How hard it is to concentrate.
When you hear all these voices
"Do better!"
"Don't stress"
"It's easy"
"Think of your future"
My future seems to be a blur,
I have no way of escaping,
To reality
Hannah Thacker Mar 2010
The world around me swirled
My mind forevr whirls
I am stuck
Forced to pick a side

I watch everyone fight
Lose their heart and soul
I am stuck
Forced to pick a side

No one ever listens
I scream my cry, yet it is forever unheard
I am stuck
Forced to pick a side

They insist
I refuse
I am still stuck
Always trapped
Still forced to pick a side
mark john junor Mar 2015
fire in her eyes
the belly of the beast in her mind
trapped between day and night
trapped between the devil and delight

what madness she asks
every madness she replies
trapped between day and night
trapped between the devil and delight

her lover is a mental game
her lust is a puzzle trap
every turn she takes brings her closer to the end
closer to the truth that she is alone
trapped between day and night
trapped between the devil and delight

what to choose what is fun what is right
the devil has his perks
so can delight
what to choose what is right
trapped between day and night
trapped between the devil and delight
emi munroe Mar 2019
it’s like being trapped in a locked cage that’s slowly filling up with water. i’m getting anxious, heart is pounding but i don’t have the time to be anxious but i can’t be happy so i’m trying to cancel out the anxiousness, i’m incapable of being excited, i can’t be mad this is just my imagination, if i wouldn’t have been so messed up i wouldn’t be in that cage. cancelling out every single emotion, the others are too far away, i’m left with nothing. i feel nothing but trapped, i wish there was something here to make me laugh and unlock the door to this cage but there isn’t. i wish there was something sad that would show up to make me cry and sad so i can let out an emotion in me but there’s not. i can’t move, nothing makes sense, words fly past my head, everything is spinning, i feel trapped but not scared, not mad, not sad, not happy, i feel trapped. that’s the only way to describe it. i feel trapped in a pool of nothing, i’m slowly drowning, it hurts but i can’t feel but i know it hurts. it hurts but i can’t yell, they don’t know me. it hurts so bad but in the worst way where i can’t feel it but i can feel it. i look at my math work in front of me, ratios are jumping off the page, percentages are turning into words, eights are turning into sixes are turning into nines. like half of them just left me and the rest are screaming fail in my face. i would feel mad but i can’t. i want to slam my hand on my desk, break the lock, and say i am done with this but i can’t. it is the most annoying feeling of always being trapped, my brain doesn’t know what else to do except wait for the cage to be unlocked. it’s never going to be unlocked but my brain is a different being, it thinks for itself and i can’t change it. even it knows that it won’t be unlocked and we’ll drown alone in that cage it wants to wait. wait and see if we have to drown ourselves. waiting to drown is so boring, can’t we just do it ourselves? waiting, restricted, my brain is its own asylum. shocking itself, pulling ice picks through my eyes, cutting itself open, punching holes in my skull. i’m filling out my form. my brain is homicidal, it wants to **** me. it is killing me. i perform horribly in math, third period. the period right after study hall. forty minutes to myself, in my own thoughts. no school work, no friends, no texting, no talking, except for to myself. clocks scattered across the room, ticking as they go in the bottom right-hand corner. a tear of joy runs down my face, another minute until i’m unlocked. i’m scared of dying, i don’t want to die, i don’t want to leave but i can’t wait until this cage door unlocks and if that means dying, i’m in. i would do anything to burn the cage and its lock so that no one else has to go through it. i don’t want another harmless person being trapped in a cage where only pain sits but you can’t feel it, you just know it’s there. i refuse to let anyone else sit, soaking in water with a big, red button in front of them that says end suffering. push it and you’re free, push it and you’re dead. i wouldn’t wish this dreaded cage among my worst enemies. i wouldn’t wish feeling like you’re dead but not, feeling like sleep can cure it but it can’t, feeling like the last thing to do is push the red button, feel like they can’t move, feel like they can’t focus, feel like nothing makes sense. there’s no cage, why does it feel like it? i’m not trapped, why can’t i move. i’m not deaf, why can’t i hear? i’m not blind, why can’t i see? i’m a functioning human, why doesn’t it feel like it?
carolina haraki Jun 2014
My soul is trapped
Inside my dreams
My bones and skin
Can’t make me feel
I’m standing numb
As feelings sleep
Inside my cold and fragile heart
I’m either trapped inside myself
Or lost in an entangled world.
My soul is trapped
Inside my dreams
My bones and skin
Can’t make me feel
carolina haraki May 2014
My soul is trapped
Inside my dreams
My bones and skin
Can’t make me feel
I’m standing numb
As feelings sleep
Inside my cold and fragile heart
I’m either trapped inside myself
Or lost in an entangled world.
My soul is trapped
Inside my dreams
My bones and skin
Can’t make me feel
Oliver Grey Oct 2014
Dealing with depression
Feels like you're trapped
You always feel like you're in the dark
Doing everything wrong

Dealing with depression
Is like being trapped in a glass box
The world moves on around you
You see other people fall in love and achieve their life goals
But you're trapped
Unable to get out

Dealing with depression
Makes everything happy
Seem scary
You're so use to feeling low
That feeling anything else feels unnatural
But somehow
No one can understand that part

Dealing with depression
Is like constantly having a thorn in your side
Reminding you that life is terrible
And the sun with never come out

Depression is a ***** and many teenagers and adults live with it. Take some time out of your day, and just smile and someone who's looking down. It'll make their day.
Every one is trapped !
Some in their dreams ,
Some in their happiness.

Every one is trapped !
Some in their sorrows ,
Some in their pain .

Everyone is trapped !
Some in their fame ,
Some in their name.

Every one is trapped !
Some in their mystery ,
Some in their history .

Everyone is trapped !
Don't get drowned in the net of humans ,take a ground ,
Discover yourself from lost to found .

Every one is trapped !
Rise above the desception,
For as long as we know we are trapped , we have a chance to escape .

#28.08.2019 #
Stanzas,unrhymed,simple verse, repetition phrase
Deceptive word "Trap".
Ollie Godsson Jul 2013
And I’m afraid I can’t get out.

You see, it’s better being here
in my computer
because online I’m whoever I want to be.

In the real world there’s commitment
Here I can make a new account
You see I feel safer in here
trapped in my computer.

Help, I’m trapped in my computer,
and I’m afraid I can’t get out.

You see, the people here seem
so much more real than the ones
on my tv screen

It shows me so much fear
and hate, and lies, and a bit more
You see I feel safe in here
trapped in my computer.

Help, I’m trapped in my computer,
and I’m afraid I can’t get out.

It turns out this was not where I
should have been; they finally
found me out.

I am not who I pretended to be,
and they know it for truth.
You see, I am not safe in here,
stuck in my computer.

I never really was.
Lilly frost Jun 2015
I'm trapped in a box
Dark and cold
I'm trapped in a box
My time running out
Trapped in a box
With barley space to breathe
Trapped in a box
With no body else
Trapped in a box
Screaming for help
Deepali Apr 2019
The trapped soul

Don't you think we all are being trapped? .
In... In a schedule
A schedule which is not being made by our own self,
But is a contribution of all,
Alllllllll the human beings?

Come out from it,
Creative humans;
******* your imagination,
Observe the elements your eyes are seeing which is eleminated by diversions.

Fix and mix your mind,
Bring the capturing out from focal of your eyes.

Illness, nausea, emotions let it all goo,
Know you soul.

The trapped soul.

— The End —