I press my back against the outside of your door
I slide,
My palms polish the aged wood
I curl my body against myself
I am cornered in the angle of the entrance and the floor
My room
Just off to the left
I thought I heard you shuffle in to bed
But I wonder if you know I'm still here
Waiting just outside your closed door
In the angled corner
Of the entrance and the floor
I am falling
Asleep
And I feel the tingle of my sleeping leg
But I can't seem to move from this spot
Cornered in the angle of the entrance of your room
And the floor
Pins and needles surging through me
But I won't move
I can't move
I know when you wake
You won't be you
He only lets you outside for a day
So I guess I'll still wait
Until when the face that looks on the outside of your door
Can't see without his glasses
Where I wait
In the angle of where your entrance
Meets the floor
My back
It aches
My wings
They're crumbled and crushed
But I can't pull myself up from where I rest
Cornered in the angle
Of the entrance
To your room
And the floor