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.