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?