Forgive me if this poem seems a bit hackneyed but this catharsis is what I need. I wish I could wake from this sleeping spell but I'm stuck, trapped in conventional shell. Six walls surround me, here in this room a door opens and reaches, gives me a broom. It tells me " make better" "separate" "make do" not from others though, no now from myself as if to bring me to greater health. I step through one door, another, again. To find myself trapped, I'm no pig but in pen. Again it's still here, shell, second skin. I thought it needed first and it grew from within.

My time of them is brief, it's fair they don't listen. Their ears close in on themselves, their mouths overtake them, they shamble about all their steps untaken. Some look to me, find me a star. Others find me a bulb where they are. Some try to use me as if I am their best bet, push and pull me, a marionette. Yet the strings are only an illusion they've found. As me and my kind will stay unbound, oh we will play, and we will jest, our words may put their minds to the test, but this is no war, and this is no trial. I hardly believe myself, is it defiance or denial? Do I want to accept that they are a part of me? So are the others of the past but I don't want to believe.

I will continue onward, I will leave this part, just as I've left others, I will soon depart. It hurts to think of but this clears my head and I will not seek placebo in it's stead. The truth must be faced no matter how, I feel about it matters not now. I was told each day I have a voice, but sometimes I wonder, did I have a choice? I like to ponder truths of this kind, or thoughts whatever, now is not the time. To think eternal is my dearest wish, to never forget would be my choicest dish. I'll learn forever and that's the truth but will I pass the spiral loop? At the edge, where I began. All my thoughts passed through my hands. No longer here am I stuck. Now up the spiral stair with luck!