Walls surround and call my name.
Not long before I fall asleep.
Not walls made of wood and plaster.
But walls made of black and other dark colors.
A room built.
A room that isn’t always the same.
Sometimes I am given a chair.
Sometimes there is nothing there.
My eyes go up.
My eyes go down.
It is hard to look left.
It is hard to look right.
I open my eyes some nights during sleep.
I look around inside of the dream.
This dream is sometimes hopeful and lovely.
But mostly it is a nightmare brought on by my lack of self esteem.
I am very aware of what I can do.
What I can’t do.
When I am stylized.
When I am talking out of my… you know.
It would be nice to have a window.
So that the light in the room can be shown in the night.
I am on a hill looking down and up.
Hoping in hope, to show people that I can offer a rope.
But the nightmare continues on.
Building more walls.
And resisting any calls.
But the hope is still there, desiring to wake up and not despair.
This world is not in my control.
I cannot take down these walls.
Only Love has the power to shake up this room.
So I may better share the hope that I know to be true.
I am given a match.
I light it up, and drop it down.
The walls burn to the ground in the form of a tune.
I take up Your hope, and go out to build a better room.