Blue is good

It is inside a cage,

the shelter from all that noise,

from surprises and attention,

that I want to go


Suffering seeps past stainless steel.

The structure in which I hide

or regroup,

where I feel like I can catch my breath;

it feels like safety within it’s shape.

It holds me.

I feel the protection of it

solid and unyielding,

against my limbs and lungs

keeping me.

It occurs to me,

noise and attention,



This will to stay within

is really living without.

Once I was shoved.

Packed in and

backed in

to a corner

where my worst fears lie.

Room 101 and WWII–

put that on my bio.

The crate where I have stored my safety

has kept me from feeling safe.

Circumstances built it, and I,

I have managed the upkeep.

Tirelessly maintaining and refurbishing

the corner I was backed into;

perhaps it won’t be so claustrophobic

or my worst nightmare,

if I fix up the place.

No amount of renovation

can turn a cage into a home.

I have to move out of this residence

before it crushes me

I feel the pain of confinement

and the sun blinding me

It is good.

It is a great thing to know I am caged.

Now I know I can get out.

It is a cage.

It is not a home, or a shelter,

or a safe haven.

I don’t want to be in it

and I am glad.

Kelly Mastros is a former Midwesterner that lives in the Sunshine State where she writes poetry and observational essays. She studied English Literature and Sociology at the University of Central Florida, and has informally studied people for years. A wife and mother of wily felines, she spends her free time advocating for mental health awareness and sampling chocolate chip cookies. Kelly maintains a personal blog at

Related Posts

If you enjoyed this, you might also enjoy these