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Locked In

this room is still depressing

scratched hard-wood floors

covered in hair the dog shed

and that I’m too lazy to sweep up

windows that won’t open

a door to the outside screwed shut

far too much furniture

and a tendency to go from cold to hot

but it’s my sanctuary, my place

to hide, to think, to write,

I can’t leave or those other thoughts

will take me over, keep me away

from what I know I should be doing

I’m locked in partly by choosing

and partly for my own safety


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