By Candace Shultz
Pressure builds in my chest.
Anger burns in my veins.
Tears threaten to spill down my cheeks.
I can’t sit still,
So I pace the floors
As screams echo in my head.
Day in, day out, it’s all the same.
The walls are my prison bars,
The windows pictures of a faraway land.
And I’ve lost the key to the door.
I feel a little bit better now.