Untitled

It's untitled, mainly because I have yet to think of a proper title. Any suggestions would be appreciated.

The walls of this encasement ; Cold and Concrete.

No warmth, no welcome, no open door.

Enveloping, draining the vital force within; Fuels defeat.

Endless cycle of picking up, just to be thrown back to the floor.

Some beings seeming benevolent,

Actions misconstrued as ambiguous.

While those with intentions malevolent,

Seem to be all the more affectuous.

Reviews

[redd Brick Keshner]

I can see the elusiveness of 'catching' a title for this poem.
It stands on its own and also invites a bit more treatment.
It could develop into a larger piece. But we wait on our muse for that.