there are four walls that make this room.
there are four walls that make my bedroom
and four walls that make the classroom
and four walls that make the bus ride home,
and,
there are four walls that make this room
i can do anything I want in this room.
I can scream and i can laugh and cry, jump, plany and drink and eat.
i can run and walk around and sing.
but all i want to do is leave.
i want to walk out of the space trapped by the white jip rock cage
and i want it to drown out the noise of absolute fluff that spills out of the room, and erase all smell that soaks my clothes and i want to taste something so desperately opposing the taste in my mouth when i am in this room.
but i dont do what i want to do.
instead i stay incredibly close to the white walls that i so deeply despise.
i dont sing.
I wish, i WISH i could cry
i am silent. i listen to the noise that pierces the two sides of my head with a neglected knife.
i am cold. i sit cold, silent and still where two of the four walls meet.
i can choose any corner i like. this ones the best
i have only what i have placed on myself
a worn grey shirt
a pair of ripped pink pyjama pants
and a blanket
i know the blanket does not keep me safe in this room.
it keeps me trapped and i know that.
they know that.
but i dont want to take the blanket off because it is cold in this room,
and there are people but i am lonely in this room.
i want to be alone in this room.
i want to sleep alone in the corner with only my blanket in this room.
but there is no one to tell me i cant
no one to tell me i shouldnt
so i dont.
i stay in this room. i do not sleep or eat or laugh or dance.
i dont speak in this room
not because i dont want to, not because I\'ve been told to shut up but because i am drained in this room.
something is draining me
i keep looking for a person to blame.
maybe it\'s just me
but i know,
that it is the four walls that make up this room