CHRISTOPHER TANG
A Locked Room
My room,
these four walls,
a square that
defines me.
A shape that
is drawn into
memory,
a calculation
of uncertainty
and sleep deprivation.
And I’ll never leave.
Draw the curtains,
lock the door.
I’m not coming out,
even if the walls
around me crumble.
Because I’m locked in
my own head anyway.
A prison that confines me.
By Christopher Tang