Caged

Allergic!

I am becoming to the putridly soft sheets that I succumb to each night,

Resting as though I had something, anything to wake up to in the deceitful dawn.

Sick! I am becoming

Of the very sight the lavishly stuffed furniture that I perch on each grueling day,

Forcing my mind upon books when I should be applying it to something of pay

Poisoned!

I am by the tea that touches my lips each night,

 Perfectly warmed, like the rouge that suffocates my cheeks

 Which masks my burning resentment.

Mad!

I am becoming of the mundane,

Cursed, cursed, cursed half life that me and my sisters are forced to uphold,

Stuffing our vain lusts in our rotting souls 

Like stomachs within corsets.