Blank Identity

My walls are constantly suffocating me,

Surrounding me, restricting me.

Heavy breathing, constant panting,

Gasping for fresh air.

My walls you see, do not hear me,

If anything, they all but feel me.

My fists as they punch the blank screens

From rage, desperation and panic.

My walls hear very few things,

Only silent weeping in the dark.

Unfeeling and cold facades,

The demise of my freedom.

My walls I believe who should be protecting me,

Erect and powerful from the blows,

Have only crafted this nasty box,

Defining me, labeling me.

Immune to the words I write,

Insusceptible to the colours I paint,

Repelling me and who I am,

And forever erasing my identity.