Oh to be trapped in a world you once knew. Strangers once friends, become numbers - cues Chairs turned backwards, memories - hope, the chance at growth. Blurry eyes and knuckles raw, I watch the world in fearless awe. A haze of uncertainty enshrouds the air invisible yet deadly there is no escape. Hush my child, it will all be over soon. When? When… When will the air be finally sweet the door unlocked, brazen faces exposed. When will hope be intact the oppression diffused, the hatred crushed beneath humanity's heels? When, oh when, will joy be restored? - Questions swirl above my head when I open this Pandora's box. And when I spin in nauseous uncertainty, I close the box and bury it within. Deep deep too deep to find. It hurts, it throbs, it encompasses my thoughts. This box is locked and I can't say which is better. - Once I sat in mild defeat and sat on my hands (yes, hands, for then they were not fists) can i return? Joy, true joy, is from within. Then why, oh why, can't I release it over me? Where is Your hand when I need it most? And then like a streak of lightning the sudden thought illuminates my cavernous mind… will it end if… A bullet in a hat (see, it's empty) No, not that. My friend, nothing is that simple. We're not here to twiddle our thumbs. The thought carries faith and to indulge in it removes the faith? I've said too much. - Words elude me they've lost their sense. I ponder them aimlessly, walking their lines. But I found my level on a line wrought with emotion, chaotic flurries of hot, sticky tar. Bubbling over pots of mediocrity. It's not so funny to watch yourself drown, decorated with another's feathers and seething within. A metaphor can't get far when you're not confused, amused, trying a fluke. My peace, my stall, my hope goes so far. I cast my stone into the rippling brook and watch the circles span farther and farther into the vast unknown. And when it stops I shall too.