I feel trapped in a room.
A room with a ceiling.
With limitations and borders.
I try to tear down the walls.
But I hear others scolding me.
Telling to me to stay in my room.
Insults and failure.
Shattered dreams and broken glass.
Surrounding me and holding me back.
Anywhere I step.
I get told I'm not allowed to dream.
That I should do what is right.
My screams echo around.
The room quivers.
But my protests don't break me free.
Throwing my fist against the wall.
And all that happens is I hurt my hand.
Anything I do only results in giving me more scars.
Falling back on the floor.
Staring at the ceiling.
Wishing it would just disappear.
I'm weak and tired.
Nothing I do and say helps.
But I know one day I will break free.
Without all these insults and criticisms.
The ceiling will crumble and I will climb out.
And a room without a ceiling will remain.
YOU ARE READING
A Poetry Book
PoetryA collection of poetry I, @canpotcat, have written over the past 3 years. Basically somewhat like my diary because every poem I wrote was at the moment about how I was feeling and what happened. And just something to know, a couple of the poetry wri...
