My fingers hover over splintering cracks in the cement, 
The frigid empty air is so consuming I️ feel irrelevant. 
The footsteps that surround me are terribly helpless, 
And the aching sound of my chattering teeth ensures that I️ am restless. 
 
The room is endless, 
But I️ see death. 
My impending demise feels so defenseless. 
Why must I️ choke on every breath? 
 
My hands are bound so tightly I️ can feel my skin bleeding. 
I️ am shaking alone. I️ am fearing alone.  
And I️ am breaking. 
Those that do not see my struggles are blind. 
The room is so quiet I️ can hear myself pleading; 
Pleading for thoughts that make me want to lose my mind. 
I️ am trapped. I️ am dying.  
 
I️ am not in a cellar. 
Withering ropes do not physically bind me in containment. 
The room is not a room, in fact, it is a hell that only I️ am a dweller. 
I️ am trapped in a crowded street, I️ have met no physical detainment. 
 
I️ am trapped. I️ am dying.  
Buzzing happiness echos around me.  
I️ am silent. I️ am crying.  
I️ am alive,  
With no intent to thrive. 
Hope tightens my pain,  
Depression loosens my strain.  
 
My fingers hover over cracks in the cement.  
Cracks that represent my flaws, so many of them.  
I️ swallow my sorrows and my teeth chatter around the emptiness. 
I️ am shaking alone.  
I️ am fearing alone.  
I️ am dying alive.