I sit here alone in this Little White Room,
alone with my thoughts.

I sit here alone in this Little White Room,
I stare at the floor, at the ceiling, struggling with this pain that I’m feeling.

I lie here alone in my Little White Room,
torn between loss, anger, sadness.

I lie here alone in this Little White Room,
with nothing but a pillow to rest my head full of all these feelings and a thin sheet to cover my fear.

I close my eyes while in this Little White Room,
trying to picture my life outside it. What is it like outside it?

As I pace all around my Little White Room,
I try to think of my life without it. Can I live outside it?

There are no windows in this Little White Room,
I scratch at the walls trying to find it. This existence of life they say lies beyond it.

I hope one day I’ll be free of this Little White Room,
free to live, free to love, free to be.

As of right now, in this Little White Room,
I float free to be me and to live and to die and to see what it is like to be outside this room.