I am trapped under a ceiling
giving me a hopeless feeling.
Every time I try to pass,
I end up trapped behind the glass.
Walls around my heart grow nearer,
and nothing's getting any clearer.
My heart is gasping for a breath,
and I envision my own death.
I'm surrounded by my fears;
hopes and dreams fall with my tears
upon a stage of rotting wood,
made of things that once were good.
I see a smiling man before me,
proud and happy; full of glory.
His face is mine, his body too,
but all his dreams are coming true.
This man can go past any wall,
but he can't hear my anguished call.
He leaves me with a forlorn feeling
underneath my cursed ceiling.
Now I'm left, alone, and sighing.
I don't need help; I'm only dying.
Just leave me here, and I'll be feeling
trapped under my wretched ceiling.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem