Container of Possibilities
November 22, 2022
I can't find the doorway out, I've learned it does no good to cry and shout, The motion around the room feels rehearsed, It's when I stop that the pressure occurs, Perhaps I am like a container of possibilities, And because this particular element is endless and confusing, I just can't help expanding, and expanding, and expanding. Looking around for a special valve, One that will release, With little to no residual pockets. To this day, It alludes me. So I use the old rusty ones, That just do the trick, But whose creaks and groans, And bits of decomposing metal, Only allow for a less than optimal, But functional allowance, Of forgiveness and rest.