The small room by Jessica Johnson

The cold surface of the door presses against my back.
The walls close in on me,
leaving me desperate to take quicker breaths.

Above me the once familiar ceiling seems alien as it comes toward me.

I remember putting up the posters on the wall,
but I can’t remember why.
I try and try to remember.
Until I cry for the part of me that I feel I’ve lost.
It’s gone and nothing in this small room will bring it back.

I’m forced to succumb.
Succumb to the restrictions of the room.

My arms are locked at my sides,
the walls crushing them into my ribs.
My lungs try to expand but get pushed back.

I have no room in this small space I once called a room.
I can’t escape; there’s no room to open the door.

 

Jessica Johnson
Jessica Johnson is from Birmingham, England. She's currently in her last year at Senior School. Jessica loves to read and write, and she hopes to one day work in publishing. She also hopes that she will be able to travel across the world to see all its wonders and to experience different lifestyles.

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