Four grey walls surrounding me.
I see the ceiling above and the floor so below.
But in this box, it becomes more difficult to grow.
For the stream of my mind to flow.
I crave for knowledge, and a new atmosphere, but in my anticipation.
I know it is all clinging to the outside window as running condensation.
When midnight creeps around I gain a sensation of exploration into the cosmos.
But in this small space, there is no high elevation when claustrophobia uses me for its own recreation.
So now I just reside in my bed, contemplating within my head how to escape from this crate.
All I seek is to wander, so I can find new things to ponder of before it becomes too late.