The world is a square,
with crayons and walls
and a shoesized window
big enough for me to spy
if anyone steps
beyond the barbed wires.
Their eyes weep
in my behalf, good grief!
Their eyes hint,
that woman must be distraught;
that woman must be bored.
Yet, with all the portraits
floating in the wind,
begging me to scribble
each of them, I'm tied up!
There's been to much work
since the world moved in
My head.
Melanie Agua
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/away-27/
