In this tower


United States
37° 35' 38.0472" N, 120° 51' 40.9644" W

I'm locked away,
they say it's for my own good
the bars and locks on both
the windows and the door,
I have a perfect view,
a perfect view of where I can not go.

I can see the blue sky,
the green of the forest.
I can smell the rain
I can feel the breeze.
But all I can touch
are these rough stone bricks
and the cold of the iron bars.
I'm all alone, locked up here,
except for my friends the birds,
and my books, I have them.
They can take me far away from this tower,
they show me what it's like out there.

I've been here for as long as I can remember,
But they still say it's for my own good.
But is it really for my own good?
or is it for the good of others?
I'm not evil and surely
I don't look that hideous.
I'm just... different... I suppose.
My blonde hair...
my blue-green eyes...
no one else I know has them.

I'm different, is that so bad?
It must be, or else I wouldn't be
locked away,
locked up in this tower that's rising high above
a sweet rolling green meadow down below.
With only a few barred windows,
and a single locked door.



This is one of my first poems that I've actually created just for fun and not for an assignment. Please leave some feedback!


Nice, easy, flowing poem. Thinking window lock could reference suicide. How does he feel the breeze in the tower? "or is it for the good of others?" makes me curious, what would others have to gain, except the old idea that they dont have their world-views changed by somone with an imagination. Why do "they" feel the need to let him know it's for his own good when he cant escape? If he thinks that his differentness is bad, that he is bad, that nobody likes him, he would think the birds wouldnt be his freinds. 

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