My Mind, My Mausoleum

Alone, I am, inside this room,
this is my mausoleum, this is my tomb.

Alone, I am, inside my head,
a corpse, something considered dead.

I put my finger to a pane,
create a smudgy print,
seeking to cover what I see.
Seeking to cover where I
wish to be.

Outside, they are,
and here I am, alone.
A child confined,
not by her mother,
but by her mind.

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