A Project for Better Journalism chapter
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As I look out from within I watch as people pass me by

Their hands grasping each other, their smiles wide

Their eyes full of hope, empty of demise

And their heads’ held up high, their souls’ full of pride

But as I sit there I ask why

Why must I be confined in this box of lies?

Why must I be trapped in this mangled body of mine?

How can a boy’s Life be torn seam by seam?

How can every day feel like the same bad dream?

How can a boy’s hopes and dreams be torn apart so easily?!

And how can a boy be ravaged by more than one disease?

The questions pileup in a despairing heap

But once answers are found they let off a foul reek

A society based off of looks alone is our crime

If you lack the prowess you aren’t given the time

A heart of darkness can engulf a heart of mine

The clock of reform is striking nine

But now the clock is running out of time!

My mind goes into overdrive and I hear a distant cry

As I curl up into a ball the pitiful voice becomes a thunderous chime

It’s overwhelming melodies chanting time, time, time!

The chime takes hold of my body and possesses my mind

I’m on my feet now, my mouth aligned with the night sky

At the top of my lungs I begin shouting, “I shall not die! I shall not die!”

The walls of solitude that surround me begin to shatter until they are nothing but a pile

Out of the rubble climbs a boy born of new life

He holds his head up high, his soul full of pride

His eyes full of hope, empty of demise

And he holds out his hand, his smile wide

All the people around stare as if seeing him for the first time

The melody is gone now but the chime still echoes through his mind

Its vocals remain the same but its tone resembles a sigh of relief

As the boy walks with his hand in another’s he whispers time, time, time!