Trapped within a small glass box
Alone inside while outside he gawks
Like he has no idea why I'm there
Thinks it's made from my own despair
Well, he may be half right
As I seem to have lost the will to fight
Each day, each hour, each moment is harder
And his grip on me grows slowly tauter
Invisible yes, but clearly there
Like the box, stealing my air
No room to cry, to scream, to breathe
Smaller each day with no reprieve
Oblivious to all or so he seems
Then why polish the glass until it gleams?
So he can critique all that I am
Until I am meek like the little lamb?
What I want he has no clue
And could care less what I do
Unless it means going outside the box
Then he teases, insults and mocks
I wither away with each word he speaks
As days fall slowly into weeks
On an on, no end in sight
My soul grows dark, no guiding light
The knot inside me grows in mass
As I find myself always behind the glass.
