Little town, bundled up, like a tightly locked box.
Our coats zipped up too high.
I feel stuffy with the humid air- especially surrounded with all these fixing stares.
Turning into glares.
I used to be fine, the bath tub just a place of comfort, not to self harm.
But you've broken me in more ways than one.
I can feel the walls closing in.
Each place holds the ghost of a memory, my escape knows no end.
Can the light shine to hide my shadows again.
Close the book, I'm at my end.