Escape

This poem started off as a product of a writing workshop, but after a little fixing, I believe it is good enough to be published here. Let me know what you think. :)

I'm stuck

In this huge warehouse

All these twinkling chandeliers

Blood red curtains

High ceilings

Everything is so... fancy.

Take a look.

Every thread, every tile, every crystal

Are like sharp jabs of cold icicles sent

to ripped jeans and sneakers

From the high and prestigious

No way to turn

It only stops 

When you look out the window

And see the sunset

There it is

Escape