Poetry?

I spend my days locked up in my room,

I waste my time thinking of ways I could escape the gloom.

I thought I could use the window,

But, I think I might fall.

I could whittle a hole in the wall,

But that would do nothing at all…

I could use the door, it’s true,

But what a bore!

I could make a hole in the floor!

I would fall right into the kitchen,

That seems safe, unless, there was a knife,

Then I might lose my life.

After all, I think I might use the door after all.

It still is such a bore to use the door…