Sign of Exit

Shadows dance

Across my ceiling

As the blades of the

Overhead fan

Swish in their

Perpetual, circling

Motion.

I feel the

Rivulets of tears

Running down my

Upturned face,

Twin streams of

Sorrow making their

Way down the mountains

Of my façade.

The whirlpools of my

Fingertips trace the

Zigzag pattern on

The coarse blue

Blanket that

Absorbs my

Pain, as my eyes

Follow the dance of

Shadows on the ceiling

Of my prison.

Taupe walls and

Ancient wallpapers

Greet my every glance,

Tweaking the shadows’

Dance and draining

The life from my eyes.

The forest green of

My irises dart from

Corner to corner

Of this miserable place,

Desperate for an

Exit.

The stale air

Leaves a dreadful

Taste in my mouth,

Making me choke

On delicate words.

My limbs are weak,

And my heart is

Heavy.

Tally marks line

The walls,

Counting the days

Inside this prison.

 

If only they knew

How desperate I

Was to get

Out.

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3 thoughts on “Sign of Exit

  1. “The stale air

    Leaves a dreadful

    Taste in my mouth,

    Making me choke

    On delicate words.”

    I love the way your poem tells a story, but again it is one with an edge of mystery. Is the prison a metaphor? You have me thinking…that is the mark of a good writer!

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