Saturday, December 12, 2015

Glass House

I am on the inside looking out. 
Living in a room with only walls
There are no doors on this glass house. 
I know you see me; palms pressed against the pane.
Seemingly silent as I search for my escape. 
Clearly you see what I am saying
Though I spoke no words to hear.
I am a mime in a glass box.
You may not see the walls that constrain me

But I can still show you they are there.