I am alone in this box and I can not get out.
I can not see what is going on, so I shout,
I can hear noise, but no one is there.
Maybe it is all in my mind and no one cares.
I feel like smiling.
If I sit still and hide in my zone,
I will begin to think of this as home.
The walls are high, so they will not see inside,
Where I keep the secrets that I want to hide.
Smiling cheers up my day.
I can not breathe; I need to get back from the wall
Yet I feel safe when pressing tightly to them all.
No longer will they control me with their lies.
Therefore, there will be no mourners to grieve at my demise.
I should get my teeth fixed before I smile.
It may be my imagination, but the walls keep getting closer.
Is it getting darker; are the top flaps folding over?
At least before they shut me in, I could see the sky.
I wonder is this how it feels to live alone and then die.
Nothing like straight teeth to influence people.
Dying it seems is a strange experience,
It does not seem to end in some strange sense.
Sometimes they think we are gone, but we are not.
We were just pushed aside like garbage left to rot.
Even the best smile can make you look evil.
One last glimmer is shining into my box from above.
They package us away when they deny us love,
There is no light within this room; I am slipping away,
I can hope to rise free once more on some brighter future day.
The thought of freedom does make me smile though.
Will the mortician give me a frozen smile, with lips all painted pink?
Can I borrow implants for the viewing; will my lack of breath stink?
Do I have to return them when it is over and the lid is tightened fast?
I hate lying here in the hospital knowing that I am soon to die at last.
I hope that passing over does not mean being forever alone.
