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David Chap Bottoms

(20th September 1990 / Jacksonville, Florida)

These Four Empty Walls


At the end of my days I retire to my room
A daily routine that I have made since I got here
I empty my pockets upon my desk and remove my uniform jacket
Throwing my beret upon my bed with a sigh
I run a shower in the tight little confines of my bathroom
Unlacing my boots and undressing

Once clean it seems like when I reflect on the day
It all is a blur to me
Every day that I have spent here
Doing the same thing day in and out
Has no definition between them
No dividing line that I can see in my life

I stare at my bare walls of brick, mortar, and plaster
The white paint makes me feel sickly
Silence piercing my ears like a scream
I spend all day with my brothers and sisters
Distracted by our work and daily tasks
That I fail to remember why I feel so down

It is because I return back to this prison
To be in solitude with no joy
It drives me to stay away from here
To go out and find something better
All I want is to be able to relax again
To no longer feel alone with no one to love me

Submitted: Saturday, August 31, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, September 03, 2013

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