When did I start losing trust?
Or stop sharing it nor giving it away?
Did I really learn the importance of it?
Was it always just a virtuous claim?
What could have me so to never trust again?
How did I notice the first differences?
Or convinced myself of mine?
So much so that I see similarities as doors?
Were the closed ones the root of my scars?
Why would it be that differences hurt?
Where the next door, is it a trap or a chute?
Or do I get to only decide speed and demise?
Am I only escaping or exiting my stories?
Is the living in one’s head, alive but dead?
Which way is up, to this fallen paralysis?