Cage Up

You’re born into a memory.

Palace walls, draped in familiarities.

Nostalgic dreams, projecting from screens,

All in synchronicity.

Mind plays.

You’re born into an underground room.

Full of colours, synthetics, fibres of jute.

Repeating lengths of pattern clashing,

against others endlessly.

Mind pulls:

at the darkness of a fold.

Strawberry fields found then sold,

Through the lens of a kaleidoscope -

Just so you can know the taste, shape and texture of each one.

My house is a cramped two bedroom apartment,

Lacking art on the walls and a soul of it's own;

My soul lives in a palace and waits for me to open the door.