Cubicle

I am sitting in a room
and I suppose I should be grateful
I hate this room but the room has walls
I suppose I should be grateful
And that familiar loneliness creeps all around me
but people abound me
I am bound
No one is keeping me here
but so much is keeping me here

I sit
wasted
potential ignored
or maybe just displaced
I am useless here
Things feel useless here
And I fought to prevent the inevitability of this situation
or at least I thought I did
At least I fought
I did

But this is not unique
I am the face of millions more
who are trapped in invisible snares
That seem to be coming out of hiding
Still the vice
does not
loosen

My dreams have come to kill me
They press and fold against me
crushing me with the heaviness of
what I've failed to do
Failed to accomplish
Assassins from the past

But my Heart keeps telling me


I'm not done
And
that


Those three lines are all I have to hold on to
as the minutes turn into hours turn into years
I mourn for who I was and who I thought I could be