Trapped, or -

I keep finding myself in the room

with the false glass ceiling -

sometimes I believe its open air

then later, breathless, I look for a trap door.

am I trapped

or -

am I faithless?

it wasn’t until I loved a feeble thing or two

about myself

that I began to wonder

why do I stay in the shelterless room

with no door?

perhaps for the same reason that I rest in the shade

of the stage prop wall

that I built for trade

so could I watch from orchestra seats,

and feel, like the actor

trapped.

or -