Poetry

This house is an empty box
Yet people crown my space
And all around me are locks
To be put on my mouth and face
 
I’m amazed I can breathe
In this confined thing I call a home
As I wish for a fast and painful death
Because that is all that can reach me under my dome
 
Please I beg come swiftly to drag me away
So air can touch my lips so sweet I gasp
For I can not bare to live another day
And I would cream but my voice is only a rasp
 
Torture I ask thee to stop hurting me
For the hammer in my hands will kill
The walls that won’t let me be
What I need, of what is real.