Windows to the Soul
I was feeling a little depressed when I wrote this. Sorry if it doesn't flow all that well, it just kind of came out.
No, I am not really this depressed. School was just weighing me down a bit.
The hallways are dark,
That lead to the open window.
The walls, once brilliant,
By pain, have been brought low.
The windows are open,
Unobstructed, so they can see
The emptiness and shame,
That has taken over me.
Of rooms, there are a plenty;
Of stories, many unfold,
Speak of endless tragedies,
Never ceasing to be told.
There are no happy endings,
No fading into life,
Just tales of much misfortune,
And never-ending strife.
When I should get out,
I travel in.
I see the true stories,
Where another always wins.
There is no golden star,
No glorious shouts of praise
For the one who lays forgotten,
Lost in endless days.
In my heart I wonder,
How could this be real?
With efforts I focus,
To harden my heart with steel.
To fight the pain of life,
I close the doors for me,
And when I see a window,
The pain is all I see.
I try to be resourceful,
To do my very best.
But in the end, my efforts
Fail like all the rest.
The window that I see,
Open to my misery,
I close to men,
To seal me in.
A facade is all they'll see.
And so I hide
And wait to end,
With all the pain and sorrow,
My terrible, but only friend.
They try to help,
But I know the truth.
They come to see the pain,
That swallowed the joy of youth.
They tell me what I know,
But tactfully you see.
Around the bush they beat,
To show what I already see.