Walls. A poem by Mr. Anon Y. Mous

As my eyes open, there are walls-
always four, no more, no less.
The walls, they follow me,
down the hallway, to the

I eat in these walls,
breathe in these walls,
watch TV in these walls,
clean in these walls,
dream in these walls…
dream in these walls…

Sometimes I go on the deck,
down to three walls from four.
Taste the fake freedom,
enjoy the unattainable sun.
So far out of reach.
So far from me.
So far…

I don’t rot in these walls;
oh no, I go
out the front door.
I go on lone walks,
escape the physical barrier.
The oppressive,
maddening walls…

When I’m outside, what then?
The walls no longer give chase,
but really, am I free?
Walled off from friends,
walled off from family.
Walled off from the
to build love with
someone new.
Someone new…

After all this time,
I had finally broken through
the sludge of my mind-
I was working well,
I was going out,
I was working out,
It was going well-

The walls of my brain
that I broke down to
keep from going insane,
have strength renewed.
And as I fight,
to become free,
in dead of night,
I suffer within the


these accursed Walls…

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *