Inheritance of Rooms

This room was here before I entered. It already knew where I would stand. They left instructions in the plaster. Rules beneath the painted wall. How to lower every question. How to make your wanting small. I found their names inside the wiring. Found their fear behind the door. Every lock called itself safety. Every silence asked for more. I do not inherit the shape of this room. I do not answer to what it assumes. Let the walls remember. Let the ceiling know. I was not made to keep it low. They taught endurance as a virtue. Taught restraint as being good. Taught the body to be useful when the mind misunderstood. But I have seen the hidden ledger. I have read the quiet cost. Every comfort built on pressure knows exactly what it lost. There is no mercy in adjustment. There is no cure in fitting in. Some doors open only after you stop asking to begin. I do not inherit the shape of this room. I do not answer to what it assumes. Let the walls remember. Let the ceiling know. I was not made to keep it low. I do not inherit the shape of this room. I leave it standing, but I leave it soon. This room was here before I entered. It will not decide how I go.