Exit

High on the steel grate
Cello song from far below
We all predicted
the visions in your head
would get you in trouble someday

In your world
disinfected taunts and tile
A series of white exits
Gowns and glances
unmoving, frozen life
'When you're home by yourself,
you're behind enemy lines.'

You said we were alike
And foolish as I am
I took your words for good
even knowing
the visions in your head
would get you in trouble someday