Fingers running up and down the walls.
Layers of dirt and crusted blood,
Build up in my fingernails.
These hands are not so frail.
Open sores and little motivation.
Climbing out from the bottom of this hole,
Gave bruises and cuts.
But I'm never going to give up.

And so the efforts may bring on weakness,
So tired.
But I look up to see the sunshine.
I see the inches bring me closer to,
The open air.
I chose to hold my head up.
Because if I look down,
If I look down to see the bottom,
I made into a home,
I'll forget to find the light.
I'll forget to fight for daylight.