the loneliness is akin to the air,
as close and tight as my own flesh and blood,
these veins like roots in my tree of a body
from which leaves of things sprout upon my mind;
my hands attempt to grasp that thin air
as if I had the ability to empower it,
but I'm suppressed by the notion of my own thoughts;
they stab these bars around me like a prison,
the bars slowly gravitate towards me locking in
and it's overwhelming;
my voice has as much influence as a pebble on earth
and no matter how much I may beg or scream,
it will not do a thing for me but let those bars crush me
until I am nothing but dust, nothing but a pebble on earth