This house was never my prison.

This room kept me safe.

It gave me exactly what I needed.

No matter how many times I cursed the the very frame it stands on.

​

At night I would break to the sight of the same four walls as I tried to sleep,

Pleading for them to release me.

The walls that protected me as I drifted from heartbreak to yearnig,

from loathing to love,

In and out of wanderlust,

And into acceptance that to experience fully is to simply experience oneself.

​

They existed solely to show me love even when I couldn't see it.

But these walls that trapped me always had a door somewhere,

And that door had a knob that I never felt capable of turning.

But I have opposable thumbs do I not?