The room where I stand has five walls.
There is no ceiling and there is no floor
So in death I can rise or I can fall,
But in life’s journey I do not know.
The east and west are for me,
The north and south I can claim.
I can walk every road – every sea,
If the fifth had not made me lame.
Its surface filled with knives and nails
That in journeying the body bleeds,
My movement leads to no avail.
I sit and worry about my needs.
If this wall would move but a while
I just might do an immense feat,
But it stands with a gloomy smile
and tells how glad it is to meet.
If it were not a wall I would punch
It in the face; but I’m the one who would feel
Pain, as my finger in unison scrunch.
I hate it because of my ordeal.
(Don’t be surprised if one day it burns,
For I’m fueled and only need a flame,
just turn your head, these are not your concerns,
It has done to many the same…)
But if I do this I become the fifth wall,
I would not live if this were my way
So I hope it changes before it falls,
With all… such would still be a sad day.
Copyright © 2010 Leslie Alexis
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem