Cube Walls

Cube Walls do not a prison make
bound by madness calls become me
Sacred but lost, taken in by the contemporary
Stolen like a private satchel
Steeled by a gilded cage
Iron bound by heavenly merits
Billed
Burrow
Bury
Bones, made of porcelain are a madness
Sickness that spreads
Breaks and pillages
Shattered and shuffled
Yet never what is needed
Not witnessed or wanted
Not warranted of wishes, but lined with material.