My Dark Room
by Raphael Eadie
Gazing at the walls of my mind,
two cents given from the silence of mine.
The teacher teaches,
the teacher preaches,
the teacher weeps as the teacher reaches to correct me.
Who am I? Or what do I see?
These walls of mine teaches me.
I am a sinner, a strong one at that,
ignorant the teacher,
blind as a bat.
Man cannot see,
the wrong doings of he,
until the walls crumble from the screams of anxiety,
A silent battle within the walls of the free.
I am human,
and I blame me,
but how much blame can one take for the same mistakes that one make?
The walls no longer exist,
numb and alone exposed to the tomb,
one cannot see,
for dark is the room.
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