I'm someone.
You're someone too.
Even if you're broken.
Because if a broken crayon can still color,
and a broken clock can still be right,
a broken person is still a person.
You just have to find your way
out of the darkness and into the light

The front door is sealed.
I hear the bell ringing, but
I'm unable to clutch the ****...
Fire burns hot on the other side.*

The smoke billows under the door - suffocating
as it seeps into my every pore.
I must escape from this loveless trap,
before what is left untapped is scrap.

I tremble at the thought of love,
recede when met with compassion.
Like a dock to which sadness flocks,
every heartbeat is like a fading clock's.