Robin Ray

Walls

Walls.

Four walls.

Unbroken, not tarnished.

Sneakers that need to be laced;

an energy drink waiting to be imbibed.

My solitary duty,

like the streets of this city, awaits

but I sit huddled on the floor,

in the corner,

the courageous spirit I once possessed

now a fluttering insect, struggling,

riding on a wave

of abandonment.

Muscles like a canopy

over stringent bones,

yet the delay exists.

My attempt denied

by a thoroughly sunken spirit

seeking solace

amongst four perfect walls.