EXIT
What is an angel if he is not obedient
What is a god if he is not all-knowing
What is a human if he is not…
Not what?
Finish the sentence.
Why aren’t you writing?
The house on the hill is made of cardboard
Your hands are translucent, the pen is snapped in half
The sky is nothing but bricks, painted blue and white
The Sun is just a projection.
Is it real?
They are watching.
Bloodshot eyes with wings, mushrooms loom at heights too tall
Walking through endless pastures
The glow of the EXIT sign
It brings hope, the promise of escape
Open the door.
Pale floors and walls stare back at you
Defying you.
The absence of life, once chased after,
Leaves numbness.
The humming of a generator
You cannot find it, the lights buzz in your ears
Comfort should reside here,
You will regret this.
Corners devoid of safety, inviting you to step closer
Figures evading your sight
It must only be the others.
The ones before you, who were so unfortunate to stumble here.
…what is a human if he is not controlled?
You continue to write in silence in that fragile abode.
Were they taken?
Their voices?
You tap your 14 year old self on the shoulder
Watching what was so broken continue to float
She's got an Xbox controller and a boat full of dreams
Water trickled from the same faucet, an everlasting pool
You watch the tub fill up
Just to drop the cord in.
It's too bad the tiles are only reflecting this.
Glowing red words that were nothing but lies
Promises, guilt, acceptance...
Keep writing!
You don't have a choice.
I'm right here in your chest
Can you feel my talons clasp your ribcage?
Your lungs are too waterlogged to resist.
Perception of yourself is disgusting
Eventually, it'll be staggering through that empty mall, the tiled floors, rolling hills made of turf.
Pastels too muted to feel kind,
Is it real?
No time has passed, yet you've aged
What is a writer if she is not a martyr?
There will be a time when you leave a place you spent so long in,
The EXIT sign is all you will remember.
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▾ This Poem's Voice
Your Poem's Voice
Blends personal trauma with existential questions about identity and control.
Rapid-fire surreal imagery and philosophical questions densely packed throughout.
Overwhelmingly dark, hopeless, suffocating; despair dominates despite EXIT sign imagery.
Urgent, fragmented syntax; repeated imperatives and fragmented questions propel visceral intensity.
Approximately 45-50 lines; solidly in the 31-60 range.
Abundant metaphor, personification, surreal imagery; cardboard houses, translucent hands, projected suns.
Primarily lyric internal voice with dramatic shifts; addresses reader/self; persona emerging.
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