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(3)
by betty
Rated: · Poetry · Other · #1220770
sick to death of walls, whenever I'm bored or feel cornered
Trapped within these four walls I seem destined to be
there is no one who cares to release me but me
and if I do care only for my own mind
why should I leave these four walls behind?

As I would an enemy
study them now, forget they're depriving me
of all the free land that is not hindered at all
by the paint, or the brick, or the coldness of wall.
© Copyright 2007 betty (miss_boop at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1220770-2007