My Room is My Prison

My room is my prison,
It traps and ensnares.
My room is my prison,
A place to numb my cares.

My room is my prison,
It has seen a better day.
My room is my prison,
A place that has oft been the setting for decay.

My room is my prison,
Or is it my 'above'?
My room is my prison,
A place to share secrets with she, who I love.

My room is a prison,
It is where we lie.
My room is a prison,
To look up at our sky.

A room is a prison,
Where we engage in our lover's night.
A room is a prison,
By the sweet slow burn of candle light.

A room is a prison,
But mine isn't.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this poem almost instantaneously after posting my first. Initially, I gained inspiration from having resided in my university bedroom for nigh on a week; a result of revision. The poem's progression signifies a withdrawal from pessimism, with the charge of optimism stemming from, as is always the case, love.

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