This poem encapsulates the sense of feeling trapped beneath the weight of expectation as life continues around you, simultaneously representing a longing for the innocence of one’s past.

my room is a cage
a decorated prison
trapping my formative years–
my prose
    my portraits
        my perception
of the world, my place, my identity–
within its four walls

colors burst from each sector
paintings from first grade and poems from third
cards 
    letters 
        pictures of best friends
(both alive and not)
string lights dance around each ornament.

old christmas cards
    rice crispy wrappers
        dirty clothes
            paper-thin certificates
                empty perfume bottles
                    fake plants

stuffed in my claustrophobic room,
a constant reminder of my past.

i glance left, right, left
as the walls cave in
i sit on my messy bed
and i wait

but nothing comes
because 
what am i waiting for?

the roof collapses
the walls are closer
i’m covered in dust
a tornado swirls my past
feeble and fragile as it tosses and turns

i sit in the center
knees to my chin
i scream
	Amma!
tears run down my cheeks
no one responds

i look outside
the driveway is empty
the sun peeks through 
the whirlwind of grey
swallowing me whole

my screams echo
in the piercing silence
wood planks pin me down
next to collages of memories

i try
i really do try
but i can’t move

i’m stuck.

Process

My bedroom is an amalgamation of the past 17 years. Every school project, drawing, travel souvenir, book, and gift has its place in my room, taped on walls or stored in drawers – serving as a tangible reflection of my growth. However, my bedroom is also a constant reminder of my carefree childhood self and the lack of expectation that I desperately yearned at the time this poem was written. I never intended to publish this poem; it rather served as a way for me to find peace in writing and identify the source of my stress, which I discovered was the overwhelming feeling of being stuck in one spot – which my poem centers around.