Four Washed White Walls

 

Four White Walls, one man standing with nothing to hold onto but bare hands

So dry the cold concrete can’t compare, carelessly cracking away like the desert

Click Click is the unanimous sound coming from the first wall in relation to the others but nothing is certain

His ego once stood tall about the height of the third wall until his world came crashing, stuck without escape

Every glimpse reflects the transparent white only his reflection can give hints but each stride forward he limps

Four White Walls and the loud Click Click only his mind cannot decipher between when he lives or ceases to exist

Bringing lonely feelings of his past, present where the needle in the haystack remained lost without a trace

Being so boastful granted the gift called forgetful of being helpful, these white walls crushed his aspirations of being hopeful 

Click Click the sound grew into surround sound definition the walls shook and rumbled like thunder, the man scampered to a crawl humbling among them all

Trapped inside the White Walls out of choice from just existing in life, day-in-day-out though strife blocked the listening ear

To the truthful voice inside suffering more in which nothing was adored with all his might

Four White Walls washed without paint the sound became dimmer, the Click Click was his wakeup to start living

Hands bled vivid colors unseen in dreams before then realizing the value of life given

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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