Four walls
with the absence of
four doors
and four windows.
Four choices
with the absence of
the will to choose.
Be asleep
stay awake
be fuckin’ bored
or be dead.
Either of those ways
you still have to be
confined.
They let the knowledge
stream
without letting you
question it.
They let the music be
heard
without letting you
dance to its beat
or dare sing
to its melody.
They let the love
radiate
without letting you
feel it
or savor it.
And after a while
you get used to the
four walls.
And you stop searching
for
the four doors and
windows.
And you stop searching
for answers
though you still
exemplify the
faculties of the
existing.
You breathe, you eat
you seemingly smile;
You bite your tongue
you poke your eyes.
But pain becomes
a stranger
to the senses.
And it is at this time
you would realize
you are dead
and confined.
©Marjo Josue
