words make no sound,
creating meanings, and new grounds,
simple or complax,
all in stock, just ask,
show yourself, or create a mask.
lost track without thinking,
my room is suddenly shrinking,
all so small,
im stuck between the walls,
the bed so tiny,
the floor, not shiny,
dusted and old,
no money, no gold,
sit alone maybe better,
im writing this letter, this poem,
because the words lost their meanings,
and actions must be taken,
the wall should be brought down,
the floor should be clean,
i should be brave,
not just obscene,
i trip myself, and expect a solution,
this isn't math, just another illusion,
the room is everything,
when will i get out?
i must take a better route.
it isn't society, nor the other big words,
they lost their meanings,
im no longer a fraud.