You do not need to search for the light at the end of the tunnel. I know you can't tell but the light of your eyes shines bright enough to illuminate the tunnel and reveal that its merely a room. A concrete, windowless room that has been built around you by those that don't believe in you. But you are strong. What you don't realize is that the fists you'd been making to stop your hands from searching for a razor in the dark, could be used to punch holes in the walls, revealing the light, to punch holes in the hearts of all the boys that hurt you, revealing that you are more than the proportions of your body. You spent two months in a concrete building speckled with windows that you could only look out of because those who helped build the concrete room around your heart felt like you needed two layers of protection. But helmets are for protection. Condoms are for protection. Shields are for protection. But not like the way they tried to shield you from reality and look away from the depression that trampled you and left bruises on your heart by placing mountains between you and any other teenager who's ever offered you an impure thought. The warmness of your smile is enough to melt the snow that lies between us and send you rushing on a wave back home if it weren't for the walls they left you behind. They seem to think its okay to occasionally lift the lid on your prison to let the butterflies in your stomach out for some air, but you are the one that needs to fly, and I swear to you, when you can't seem to pull your knees close enough to your chest, call my name, and I will run to you, and make sure that nobody ever clips your wings again.
