lockdown. There’s no
getting through. Neither
passport nor cash nor beauty
(nor begging)
will break down
these walls. It’s taken
a lifetime to stack
this barrier
inside where I hide
from outside threats
of the human
race, which I’ve been
told I belong to
(though I suspect it's a lie
as I just can’t relate).
So back away,
you’re not getting my key.
Just back away & leave me
where you can’t find me.
Just back away & leave me
in my own self-made reality.
 |
| The Wall Is Only In Front of Me |
Here is the prompt for Day Fourteen (copied from Writer's Digest):
For today’s prompt, pick a state (or province, territory, etc.), make it the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. A few possibilities include New York, California, Ontario, Bavaria, and Champagne. It goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway: Feel free to bend this in any direction you wish.
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