Why
am I here?
Lying in a bed that
hasn’t been made in weeks
trying to wake up
the boy that’s been asleep for just as long.

Abuse to my muse
that’s locked
in the cage behind my chest,
while attempting to steal a heart
that’s already in the palm of another.

And maybe
if I close my eyes with my hands,
I’ll go back
far enough
that when I sneak a peek
through my fingers
I'll find that I’ve never played this game before.