You conceal yourself in your pain,
hiding in wardrobes in high hopes of finding Narnia,
a fictitious world to free your soul from the madness of present.

You only look outside
if you feel the need to be saved -
your glass self, your very fragile soul.

But you don’t look outside
in the darkness you stay,
no down and out, just simplicity of nothing.

As tragic as your story is,
I have to wonder,
is this what’s meant to happen?

Is there a God?
Are there reasons to live
beyond the sole purpose of dying?

Should we wait for the end
to come to us
or should we just go get it?

I’ve seen those who free themselves,
the ones whose souls are ripped from their bodies
violent ends await those of us who cannot hold ourselves.