Held Prisoner (a poem)

I can swear I heard waves,
gently washing on a shore,
but I could not see an ocean,
for I was locked under the cellar door

The wild man put me here,
after pounding my head on the floor,
he danced in the moonlight,
he never told me what for

I’m not sure I can break free,
I may meet my death here,
the cliffs are nearby,
him throwing me off is what I fear

So, I count the days with chalk
on the darkened cellar wall,
I dream of rising up,
standing so tall,
but instead, I curl up,
and I cry and bawl.

(Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash)