My little box of empty dreams is filling up too fast
The more I put away for later
the less this feeling lasts

My story is but naught at all
from the world so swift
I collapse into the fall
searching for that upper-lift

I wish I knew the color-scheme for a tale of gold
You think the answer wouldn’t be
quite so very bold

My eye will twitch as I swallow down
the pills that stifle me
I don’t make a sound
but I’ve yet to be let free