I'm having trouble understanding this poem

I’m telling the wrong lies,
they are not even useful.
The right lies would at least
be keys, they would open the door.
The door is closed; the chairs,
the tables, the steel bowl, myself
shaping bread in the kitchen, wait
outside it.

I think this poem describes someone who is caged with her inner feelings. She can't let others to know her pain & desire, in fact her story. "The right lies would at least be keys, they would open the door" this line describes it well. She is banned to live her life as her own. You'll understant it with this line, "myself shaping bread in the kitchen, wait outside it."

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I'm having trouble understanding this poem I’m telling the wrong lies, they are not even useful. The right lies would at least be keys, they would open the door. The door is closed; the chairs, the tables, the steel bowl, myself shaping bread in the kitchen, wait outside it.

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I'm having trouble understanding this poem

I’m telling the wrong lies,
they are not even useful.
The right lies would at least
be keys, they would open the door.
The door is closed; the chairs,
the tables, the steel bowl, myself
shaping bread in the kitchen, wait
outside it.