Overshadowed by the
tears in my eyes,
my face becomes
a silhouette of a former
spirit once alive with smiles
and amusement. Where is that
look of wonder I used to have
waking up every morning?

Although it feels like petty
whining and exaggerated
despair, the pain in my heart
is real. The stars up in the
barren night sky do not shine
as gracefully as usual.

Sprained and spurned, I weep like a
child that fell off her bicycle
for the first time. I thought I
could do it. But I realize
how weak I have become with all
this supervision. To
the point of crippling
depression, I've crossed into
deep waters without a way
to swim back to shore.

I dug my own grave in the
dirt and I cannot see the
bottom with my own eyes,
however, I can
distinctly picture gazing
at the light from the trenches
of these holes I've dug throughout
my two decades of being alive. 

It hurts to think if I fell
into the madness of Wonderland,
how long would it take to
navigate through the
nonsensical to find the
definition of a sane man?
I don't know.
But all I know is this lonely
spirit is withering and gone
flying through the wind.
Aimlessly wandering forever.