You never did let me have what I want
I loved that baby so, but he was forbidden
Mary is my seraph’s guardian angel, like a loving Aunt
So vigilant Mary is, while I remain bedridden
Though I am not sick, just need my rest!
The mansion I idly roam, the yellow room a daunt
An old nursery splotched orange, faded from the sun
It’s irritating the sickly sulphur tint, like a taunt
I begged you to have it redone, yet you insist on this prison
The pattern laughs and pokes and prods, it commits suicide
No child could love this room, it’s like a haunted house
I wanted the room with the roses, that leads to the piazza outside
You denied me the summerhouse, its walls, gates, and even the broken greenhouse
Swore that I was not sick, I just need my rest!
You tell me I’m alright, laugh like the yellow wallpaper
But a physician knows best, so I’ll keep quiet, swallow my downer
My dear husband, you know what’s best
I am not sick, just need my rest!
I want to write and watch my ink come to life
But you deny me pen and paper
Instruct me to loll, so I must be a good wife
Listen without demur.
For I am not sick, just need my rest!
Husband, you probably have never experienced such nervousness
When the sun hits just right, the formless figure comes to life
Blending within the intricate designs, it is sleepless
I hear sister, I must go. For I am not sick, just need my rest!
I have grown fond of the yellow wallpaper, I lay deciphering its pattern
Going horizontal, then vertical, like bars with no end
Though to have the baby here would be of concern
I must make emend, John knows what’s best. I am not sick, just need my rest!
Yet, I do not sleep. The woman creeps and weeps
Sister hears it too, even in the daylight
The woman creeps out in the open country quite a heap
The others are curious too, but the paper is mine alone, the creeping ends tonight!
I scratch and tear, ready to entrap the weeping woman
I will not leave this room, the outside is full of creepers
I’m fastened by my rope which lets me creep freely about the room
For the outside is not yellow but green and full of dangers
Knock, Knock! Why there is John at the door
He pounds and hollers, but I keep on creeping just the same
At last he enters but I have escaped, just like I swore!
John thumps across my path, it is a shame
That I must I creep over him every time.