I am locked inside a box,
inside this secret place,
beneath the many, many rocks—
the same ones that float
through all of outer space.
I’ve tried to find my way out,
but all I’ve found here is doubt.
And no such luck on any hope—
my dreams are already lost
in a world entirely unknown.
It has been hundreds of years
since I’ve inhaled a fresher air.
At least it felt so. Though,
I imagine only a few have actually
gone by since last seeing you go.
I do not know where I am,
or whom I have since become.
All I know is that I am different—
not like most, or at all like anyone.
A ghost, perhaps. No, that’s wrong.
I am nothing, not something.
The world around me is spinning, spinning.
The blood and sweat upon my forehead
is no longer there, as I am plainly dead.
And I can see my spirit dying—it is thinning.
What shall I ever do? I haven’t a clue.
Perhaps I should let myself go—
lose what hope I’ve left, and float.
Get into the boat, and row myself away
into a world unknown... of outer space.
And perhaps fly from tomorrow to today,
go back in time to save what was once yesterday—
the day of my death, that is, my past.
And, at last, I may finally rest in peace,
for the last of my days—for an eternity.
