Sober Alcoholics: (Boxed In)

Surrounded by glass walls. Opening only from the outside. I see everything. I think they’re tinted, nobody sees me.

I must have magic, people come in when they want something. However, they knock first, to see if it’s safe. It must be sound proof, no one hears me in my time of need. But I also don’t complain when they’re inside crying for a bit of wisdom thinking I’m some sort of a King.

I’ve listened a lot, so I see what they can’t handle. I’ve been through a lot, I got to thinking I’ll get over everything. Yes, I have it tough, but that’ll only make me tougher. So I act like I don’t crack and luckily no one seems to catch on.

I look up and realize, these walls ain’t got no holes. Which goes to answer why this space has been getting hotter. It’s getting to be a struggle to live in such circumstances. It’s either I won’t survive this, or the heat will break the glass and injure those close to the glass wall.

It seemed easy at first but it gets difficult when you start to see that you’re boxed in.

However, if I can’t breakaway from my box, I just wish I can expand it so that it fits yours. And maybe if we’re boxed together we can find ways to create holes. And find ways to invite others and show them it’s better when you don’t struggle alone.

If we can do that, we can understand each other and call our box THE GELTONNATION

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