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Rated: E · Poetry · Psychology · #1480801
A poem of captivity, deep thoughts and regrets.
I remain here


I gaze through the window,
an opening to the world.
I sing at the shadows,
hoping someone, someone
will hear.

Tomorow comes too slow,
the minute hand,
paralysed with fear.
The last trains left,
yet I remain here.

Locked up, locked,
the silence at the door.
The whispers behind,
and shouts beyond,
I wonder what it's for.

No sleep,
left eye held open with a matchstick.
I sit in the corner, rock
and the past I unpick.
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