that's actually good. to me this is a very hopefull piece. feeling trapped. by what subjegation? innocence? physical appearance? etc. it ends with a period so take it as such. don't focus on finding a new door but focus rather upon the fact that new doors can be created. some lead to new rooms, and sensable maps aren't that sensible in the imagination. who needs to be so thematic? just try your best to appreciate the space when it's pleasant. that's how the space grows.
Intellectually speaking, of the rationalities of spiritual realism, I often feel like a butterfly yearning for a transformed life, no longer pedestrian but able to soar with the wind. As a singer I often portray similar states. It makes me want to become inebriated on the elixir libations of their wanton decadence. Quaff the ambrosias of their obvious felicities. I could hope you were correct "there's always a way out", being human can be so depressing.
Knowing there is an escape route, yet not feeling confident enough to follow through? Understandable. However, this post feels less like someone failing to launch into safety and more like a writer who is trapped between the page and the inspiration to fill the page. We always know how, we always know where, but we rarely know when. At least those are the thoughts I gather from your thoughts.
I'm aware that I could whittle
the locks from the doors of this cell
quench this fiery hell with a whisper
if I could spit out these stones and speak...