There was a boy in a well,
He climbed down and didn’t tell;
When he tried getting out he fell,
It grew darker as his thoughts started to dwell,
“It is my own doing that I live in this hell,
But I would trade anything I could sell,
To see, hear and be the person I was, and remember the sound of mental freedom’s bell,”
There was a girl in a box,
Whose thoughts sometimes got lost,
They would speak to her when she would talk,
They followed her when she would walk,
They would shout at her words that mocked,
It reminded her of what it cost,
To remain sealed, like the mechanism of a lock,
The cosmic light shined bright during that one daylight,
The fear of the dark and the silence shook them with fright,
They met on a dismal day that suddenly became a delight,
But the monster of the well came out at night,
The lock became impenetrable, always shut tight,
The well and the box became reasons to hide,
Until one said I’m sorry and the other cried,
“We are different but the same” and they held on to each other with all their might
Mental illness sometimes makes relationships difficult, but there can also be a deep mutual understanding.
