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i feel like a prisoner in my own home
shuffle about in gloom
all the lights off
open the door to eat and retreat back into my cell
exhaust all my entertainment
crawl into bed and hope the day passes quicker
i can't reach out because what if they say no
what if they decide that they don't enjoy my company
they don't want to be around me because we've already hung out three times this week and they need to do work
the one person i want to be around
i can't talk to without hating mysefl
without fearing my feelings exposing themselves
i don't want to ruin what's there so I bury my hope of what could be and sit in my dark room
writing a poem to no one
dreaming of a happiness that will never be mine
conjuring up false reasons to say no
or to deny myself enjoyment
my body is a coiled spring
waiting to do something
anything besides sit here
but i can't move
can't make a sound what if someone sees
no one can see
i will lie in bed and pray to sleep so that i won't have to live through the hours
and in the morning it will repeat
it will become my every day
i will become my restless spirit
i will become my walls
i will become my socked feet on the linoleum floor