The Oppressor

A white room.

Four white walls,

One white door,

And one clear window.

There is a lock on the door;

One which I cannot open.

This room is my prison.

And I it’s prisoner.

I sit and I wait

For a friend to save me,

Someone who hears the silent screams

Which I stifle.

But footsteps pass

Beyond the door.

They do not pause.

They do not stop.

No one knows that I am held;

A prisoner of this white room.

A prisoner of these four walls.

A prisoner of loneliness.

There is a lock

Upon that white door.

But it is bolted on the inside.

For I am not only the prisoner of this white jail cell,

But I am also the intolerant jailer.

The oppressor of tears.

I am the reason that no one is at my door.

Only I can save myself.

But for the moment,

Solitary confinement is my sentence.

And pride my only crime.

The End

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