Beyond These White Walls

6
a number I loathe
it's the number of sides a cube has
the shape that encloses me here
in this room, only having lifeless objects
and belongings, reminders of the past
a past that at least wasn't lonely

why does she not let me out of here?
is it because my bed is unmade?
the solid blue cover and manys blankets intertwined together in an unneat way
is it because my desk is messy?
white sheets all over it covering its beige color
I'd clean it, but even when this cell is spotless I cannot leave it
and no one else can enter except her

I'm only allowed out for things she finds important
cleaning, eating, learning, church, and errands for her
what kind of life is this?
I can't even look out the big window behind the brown curtains
in the day the sun shines too bright
at night there is only darkness
nothing to see

I want to see my friends
I want to see other people
I don't want to feel lonely anymore
it digs a hole into me
and there's never anyone there to heal it
and stop the infection
I want to see what's beyond these white walls