40 views
the house
The house does not feel like a house.
It is made of transparent walls,
it is all there is.
No door,
no window,
nowhere to escape.
No,
the house is not a house;
it is an aquarium.
Just enough to swim in circles,
but
I have an ocean heart,
a need to be invisible within something vast.
Every move I made here is visible,
eliciting commentaries from spectators;
'It is the sum of her parts',
they murmured,
nodding in unison.
What parts?
What past?
Shut up!
But they talk,
and they talk,
and they talk of everything
as if they knew anything.
Let me be.
I want to live, too.
Just let me be.
It is made of transparent walls,
it is all there is.
No door,
no window,
nowhere to escape.
No,
the house is not a house;
it is an aquarium.
Just enough to swim in circles,
but
I have an ocean heart,
a need to be invisible within something vast.
Every move I made here is visible,
eliciting commentaries from spectators;
'It is the sum of her parts',
they murmured,
nodding in unison.
What parts?
What past?
Shut up!
But they talk,
and they talk,
and they talk of everything
as if they knew anything.
Let me be.
I want to live, too.
Just let me be.
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