i'm used to sitting in my room all day.
the door is locked from the outside.
i've tried to escape,
but my attempts are always failures.
through the dirty window, i can see
people with rings of keys.
sometimes, they'll catch the door
and unlock it.
i can dance and sing with these travelers until the moon rises.
other times, they'll glance at the door and continue walking.
i don't get out much, but i've found a way to thrive.
with fragile hands, i've made paper dolls.
they're scattered around the carpet.
i've got mermaids, skeletons, and banshees.
there's princesses, witches, and robots.
and shape-shifters, demons, and angels to boot.
stories flow off of my tongue,
and they move their bodies to play along.
when no one is there to let me out,
i create fables with my little paper people.
at least they keep me company.