These four walls
Incase you like a convict
How did you get here
And when?
You don’t remember a trial,
Only accusations
And waking up to
An icy sweat.
The floor is cool,
Slick with perspiration.
The air is thick,
Weighed with humidity.
There’s a shackle
Attached to your ankle.
It’s fashioned with flesh.
Innards and entrails.
All of them your own.
The walls would crumble
If you opened your eyes.