Life Inside the Walls

These four walls protect me,
but, keep out my future.
Pain cannot get in, joy cannot get out.
This is not my tomb, I am alive.
My wheelchair is not my chariot.

With my pen as my sword, I gather words as weapons,
conquering thought.
Language is my toy.
Verbs are marbles, nouns, my tea party friends.

This room is full of wonder, that flows from me.
Outside, the beast must be fed.
I have no food or drink, but words suffice.
Don't pay attention to what the walls say.
They are lying.

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