What are these walls?
That look like sky,
but the cool wind does not reach.
What is this hell?
That shows me a world,
where no green blades grow.
What is this barrier?
That I can feel,
yet cannot see.
What is this torture?
That steals from my lungs,
when air seems so near.
What is this invisible box?
That imprisons me.
My transparent coffin.
I may not know much about poetry, but I know what I like.
And I like this!