How do you thrive when everything around you is stunted?
How do you make an innocent whistle sound ghoulish?
I need to spread my wings, sitting by my ***** window.
But wait. How do I conjure myself the imaginary wings?

Square one.

Simple is no longer simple.
My love is battered by the weight of the world.
Constant need to sell my time, when all I want to do is walk on soft, warm grass.

I am told, with this struggle, I will appreciate happiness more.

Do I?