Caged In

Today I wrote a song, on the instrument I made,
But no one will ever hear the music that I played,
My house has no windows; my house has no doors,
My house is all ceiling, mirrors and floors,
My house is a mansion; my room is a prison,
The mirrors reflect the ghosts that have risen,
And though I call out and reach for the air,
The ghosts still deny that they ever were there,
Stories of songs echo through my head,
And will not let me sleep as I lie in my bed,
I will smash all the mirrors and yell at the ghosts,
I will try to say they are not what haunt me the most,
The mirrors are in pieces as a result of my wrath,
But even so I still hear the ghosts laugh,
I throw the shining shards at the walls,
I hear the explosions echo through the halls,
I stomp on my instrument with the songs inside,
But they don’t come out; I guess they have died,
Anger; frustration; the only emotions I know,
I wish I had some place quiet to go,
Someplace where it does not hurt to smile,
Someplace where I could feel peace for a while,
Instead of this room without any doors,
This room where I do not want to be anymore,
The glass on the floor is sharp like a blade,
I suddenly realize this is the only way,
But though I stab at my head, my eyes and my chest I now find,
There is no way to escape your mind.