Round Hell Round

I live within a circle
my circle
no way out
no way in
three
hundred
and
sixty
fucking degrees
of complete solitude
I sleep
fetal like
in my round hell round
all too careful
not to make a sound
and when I’m awake
I can’t help but to calculate
the diameter of this personal disaster
of this manufactured construct
that makes up the radius of my life
forced to endure this  nothingness
fucking stuck inside a circumference
spinning
in tiny
circles
devoid of
the pain of
love
hate
greed
war
but sadness
seeps in
where corners should be
changing
the very air
that I breathe
in the void of
the pain of
what exists
on the outside of
my round perimeter round
never once considering
to step out of its bounds