As Plain As Stones Poem by Faith Wood

These metal doors feel like handcuffs
This golden knob feels like a cell
We're traveling through endless corridors
with the halls having nothing to tell

This car engine sounds like a microphone
These tires sound like the mall
Running away with no destination,
showing up unannounced with no call

This house smells like a chimney
This bed feels nothing like a friend
We sink inside until we collapse,
not expecting to, in turn, meet our dear end

This lamp I lit seems too bright
I can see everything manifested in the night
There are cracks in our skin, bruises on our bones,
But we never used to mind being as plain as stones.