I never get out of the house, this poem describes how I feel during the day, after I go to bed, and after I wake up. I feel trapped, and so this poem is simply called, Trapped.

Trapped


Trapped in my dwelling I go crazy
Day after day I feel so hazy.

Floating through this world unheard
Feeling like a small trapped bird.

I bide my time in quiet reserve
expecting the life that I deserve.

Maybe this is it, maybe I am blind
Perhaps life's cruel, perhaps its kind.

I close my eyes and try to relax
Now I'm frustrated about to crack.

I open my eyes and see the same
Life is just a boring game.

A game I play everyday
I've lost at it a thousand ways.

Dully I drift into conscious sleep
And wait for anything to make a peep.

Sadly no, I turn my head
Slowly, life's water I tread.

Head gone under, now I've won
Boredom gone and all undone.

I lie unconscious for several hand swipes
and wake again my eyes I wipe.

I pray for sleep, for I am free
to be where I want to be.

But when I wake up I feel disgust
I develop a sense of antitrust.

Nothing's changed, life still goes on
Although everyday feels so long.

Cigarette Addiction

Wandering Widow

Wispy smoke fills the room
A wandering widow that has no groom.

She wraps around your hand
twists and turns like the sand.

You laugh, you cry, she's not shy
She holds your hand and then you die.

In a wake she does not care
she has found her new affair.

You lie cold in the ground,
for twas her on which you drowned.

She is harsh and has no soul
but your love for her is always full.

Until one day when you least expect
She stabs you through your talking neck.

You grunt and gargle to no avail
She has your voice and you cannot tell.

She was born of evil and for someone's greed
and for that you will ride on the black steed.

To Hades you go with no more breath
Where she awaits alongside Death.