that one thing you probably won't read

these four walls are shifting
as though i'm drifting
through a constant dream state

and though it's only thinking
i can't stop believing
that this was fate.

i outstretched my arms forever,
into the winter weather,
hoping that it would take me.

but my arms are getting tired
and they're stringing down like wires
those falling arms are all i see.

and it makes me really think

 the sole thing that makes me sink

is of my own creation.

and that my arms are falling down

because i only dress them with a frown;

clearly they'd be numb.

and i'd ask for a helping hand

but my arms are frozen strands

without a firm grasp.

 ...the only thing that keeps me

from ending my entire being

is my rampant imagination.