A thought, a word, an opinion, a belief
No escape from this tree of grief
I make my bed and call it my home,
Not realizing its arms way from being a tomb
Filled with pain and regret, my mind flies
What rain can wash these echoing cries?
Life’s rapid motion is building its walls
Do I stay in? Or answer to the wild that calls?
My realizations are lonely like a bubble in an ocean
I only need break it and break it I will in sheen
To the life ahead of mine, miserable as it may be
The cage I built myself must break for me to see!
Should I write 
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