• I’m lost in this world,
    a downward spiral
    and a clock that keeps on ticking
    towards my death bed.
    Each day I am dying,
    but still I’m dying to live.
    For no one can understand
    the brokenness I feel,
    how I wear a mask
    to the outsiders
    who I never let in.
    I fear talking about my past,
    for if I let people in,
    I know they will get caught up in my trap
    and will become black and white to me.
    They don’t even realize
    that my story is written on my skin,
    a silent reminder that the past is real.
    I catch glimpses of beauty
    through my heavy canopy
    that covers over the hole I am in
    and the light that is above me.
    I wish I could get out,
    but every time I make progress,
    my hands slip and I fall once more,
    and it was just an illusion of my mind.
    No one will understand,
    and most will never know
    that each day I made it through
    means another struggle awaits tomorrow.