Another time I'd write and write
About the world's spite,
My lack of life,
The loss of fight

I sit endlessly thinking,
Writing,
In my mind
As I grind
The little gears in my head

Wasting away is my great fear
Yet I sit here,
Absorbing no knowledge

I hate who I am,

A pathetic use of space
I try to move, I try so hard.
But stay a still lumpy rock
While people knock
And push and pull.

Their words lurk like vultures,
Trying to pick at my pieces.
Churning me up like cream
Waiting for a scream,
A shout,
A call to myself.

But how can I move outside of this cell?