Why do I feel like an empty vessel,
Like a soul caged in a dark, vast castle?
I shouted. I cried.
Yet the only sound I heard was my own voice.
Did I come here by my own choice?

For forgiveness, I plead,
Even for the path I did not lead.
Yes, I made choices—some were not right,
But does that make me guilty, the bearer of this outcry?
Or is it something else, yet to be finalized?

Is this a green room for gladiators,
Only to be vandalized?
What should I do with this vessel,
Once filled with passion and hustle?
Now, it is just an empty jar.
Should I break it—
And rise above the bar?