This poem is about coming to terms with the fact that I am not as far forward in my life as I would like to be, realising that childish hopes of outgrowing the “ugly duckling” stage are dead, and that my artistic ambitions are stagnating. This feeling of being stuck at home is a claustrophobic one, which many of us now understand all too well due to the pandemic and lockdown restrictions over the last year. We live in an era of disappointments and yet many of us have felt guilty about our inability to use this isolating period wisely and creatively, despite it being an impossible time to feel inspired. We have too much time on our hands, and yet it feels like there is never enough for all of the things we want from life. Is it even possible to completely reach your potential or feel entirely yourself, when stuck behind four walls?