My smile was committing suicide

And you came and changed my rope

Into a bow

You took my knife

And turned it to a pen

You took my pain

And turned into a paintbrush

You  took  my wrist

And made it 

My canvas

You took my earth

And made it my room

You collected the stars

And stuck them on the ceiling of my room

You threw the books

Into the fireplace

And said the only books

That matter where the ones were writing now

My canvas consisted only of the short-lived world

Behind my doors

Magic carpet

Of a world

Spun and painted on screen

Of a world

Only experienced

By one

Push of a buttonSucked in the virtual world

Of pixelation

Trapped in a glass screen

On command to bend

And repeat the scripted lines

Of life

Living everything

Through a push of a button

Trapped in a locked door

She escapes

by unlocking the door

She is trapped in the milky way of her thoughts

She lived through the images on the screen

Never fully living

Never fully tasting life

She got to comfortable in living through him

Afraid to take a step out this room

Afraid to turn the knob

And come out of the dark

She was becoming arthritic in her depression