My skin becomes the floor and my eyes become the walls
I'm trapped inside a space with no way to run, no maze to solve
My fingertips trace pathways, between the dotted lines
I cannot seem to find a way to break the patterned tiles
My eyelashes flicker as they stare down the sun
A sun coated in blank white ceiling, covered by curtains and a rug
The doe-eyed morning droplets blinking up from the green floor
Sway in time, to the rhyme, that makes up this prison block
No escape is necessary when you are imprisoned for no crime
It's simply the lack of rules that form bars unchanged by time
The laws that do appear, the things that do make sense
Only serve to set off the confusion of the rest
And it is this that makes us question
And this that torments us unsolved
As empty holes and voided questions
Enthrall with iron claws
We cannot escape the pull, you see
The gravity, you might say,
Of the stone-hearted unbending hatred
Of ever-loved curiosity
And in the end you'll seem to find
That those things which do make sense
The turning of the earth, or the force which keeps us bent
Simply cause more wonder, and muddle up the mind
For if the ground didn't reach up to meet my foot
I think I would be fine

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