A small space, confined and narrow.

A small space, suffocating and useful.

A small space, stuffy and stinky.

A small space, strange and renewed.

 

A place where fears grow.

A place where anxieties build.

A place where breathing becomes difficult.

A place that takes me places.

 

A means of attaining my means.

A means of ruining them to.

A means of building ideas.

A means of executing them.

 

What I thought was about elevators,

I found out it sounded like my brain.

 

Daily Prompt: Elevator.

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