The Bottle

We all live inside a glass bottle.
Our lives pour out of the top.
And in our feeble minds one day
We decided to cork the top.

We wallow in our self pity,
The words of others cannot get in,
Behind the thickened and stained glass
Of this bottle that we’re in.

So I’m sitting in this bottle,
Struggling to keep it uncorked.
Thinking that if I can just cut myself off
That all this thinking will stop.

I know it won’t.
It’s a lie I’ve told myself before,
And yet I am tired of sitting stumped.
Not knowing how to score.

I just need you to answer my bottled message,
The message with no words or questions.
Because I don’t know what it is.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s