I am in a box.
A box that I am trapped in.
The warm sun does not enter.
I am isolated inside this cold, dark, lonely box.

The weather outside is fine,
With the clouds parting with each other.
The warmth of the sun cannot reach my darkened heart.

The outside is full of people
Who are blissfully unware of my pain.
They don’t know or care that I am trapped inside.

The pain from this loneliness is slowly killing me.
I know I have got to break free,
But I have abandoned all hope.

I reach out for help,
But the bitterness in my soul from being trapped
Repels them away from me.

Until one man offers to help.
Out of bitterness, I demand he leave me.
I have given up on my dream to be free.
I doubt he can help anyway.

To my surprise, he comes back
And offers to help me again.
I tell him that it is impossible
As he struggles to break me free.

Bit by bit he makes little progress.
For the first time in ages,
I feel a small glimmer of hope.
I start to make an effort to break out.

After some time, I finally burst out.
I am finally free.
I thank the man with tears in my eyes.
He rejects the thanks,
Saying that most of the effort came from me.

“I only got you started,” he says
“You freed yourself.”

What will I do when it's all gone?
When I never see it all again?
They say not to worry,
"You'll see them again,"
But how true is that when it could all be gone tomorrow?
like the snap of a finger,
It could all be gone,
Everything I

Hope for

Love

Dream of

Aspire to become


But is all that disappearing really a bad thing?

When it all is over,
No one will remember my name,
or know what I did in my lifetime.

No one even cares even though I am alive
They don't care that I cry myself to sleep
every night.
They don't care if Try to not wake up every morning.
They don't care about The scary thoughts that go through my head all the time.

So is it really that bad if it's gone the next morning?