I feel trapped.
Well, physically I am; I’m in class.
But it’s that halway-there feeling,
When you’re at home but it’s only in your mind,
When you see your love but it’s only a fantasy,
When you find a place to let go but it’s forbidden.
I don’t know what society is thinking.
Why people are selfish,
Why they don’t care about others,
Especially the damaged ones.
They can’t handle it.
The glue is drying, the paper isn’t on.
What happens when you’re hanging on a fringe?
And the glue is slipping
And you don’t have any more strength to hold on
Do you just…fall? or die?
Or live empty, like an oyster without a shiny pearl.
When we grow up, what do we do?
Same routine, every single day.
Will we get sucked into our jobs?
Or not have a job at all, poor and living on the street.
Rain on our cardboard box, and we have no place to run.
What happens when I give all of me?
What’s left to give?
If I’m barely alive now,
When can I feel that again?
I’m going home.
Whether you like it or not.
I could never stay here,
Feeling like a trash bag,
Like the rest of you.