The clock winds down after moving slowly all day.
Tucked into the sheets in the corner of a room.
Squeezed in tightly to a wrap of clothes and blankets.
A new bed.
The imagined clamor of solitude fills my ears.
Missing my room.
Every night I lay against the edge and miss my life.
I reach and hit the pale sheetrock draped in cold shadow.
Every night I knock the wall.
Wrapped up in a constant hug with myself.
I spend most of the day on my feet because getting up and down is hard.
The nurses check on me always.
The sound of their keys sounds like music to me now.
If they only knew the greatest fear I ever had was of being alone.
My arms keep me warm while I’m tied.
At night I fall into the corner of my room and collapse into the floor.
I lean in and bump my head against the padding settling in for night again.
Every night I knock the wall.
It’s a hard climb to the top.
I live my life taking elevators to floors not on the keypad.
Now that I fly more I’m barely ever near the ground.
My penthouse surrounds me with walls of glass.
Seeing liberties that only the powerful know.
A sea of networking corporations and back scratchers.
Invisible entrapment. Alone. Wanting to break free.
I pound a fist into the glass that confines me.
Every night I knock the wall.
The darkest streets are always coldest.
Lonely, I stand in hopes of business.
I want to be inside or at least in a car where I can feel warm.
Girls my age normally keep busy.
I end up being knocked against the headboard or thrown against these motel walls.
I try not to disturb the people in the next room.
Every day is full of moments. Each moment is survival.
Weary.
Every night I knock the wall.
Hot sand in my clothes, I try to keep it out my sheets.
The cabin’s quiet and my team does their routine.
Somehow no one died today.
I hold onto texts from my family, but no words can bring them close to me.
I lay down and try to clear my thoughts from the day.
I quiet my mind and struggle to find peace.
This tiny cot against the wall is all the relief that I’m allowed.
I pound my fist against the camouflage and rattle this cage.
Every night I knock the wall.
These walls keep us all in.
They keep us all confined.
They keep us all in check.
These walls act as reminders,
good or bad.
Every night we knock the wall.
Every night we find ourselves up against it.
Every night we look at ourselves in our current position.
Every night we’re reminded how the world sees us.