"Seashell"

I see new heights,

But I cannot reach them.

I touch new surfaces,

But I do not feel them.

I hear new waves,

But I do not surf them.
All I see is a wall.

I feel like a shallow seashell

Washed up on a sandy shore

In the early spring,

Taken by a fierce current,

But somewhere diverging from it,

Sinking to the ocean floor,

Until an apathetic wave,
Pulls me back to my sand.
With the other dried out and
Dead seashells.

The shell I am
Once cut like a knife

But it is dull now; eroded,

Forgotten, forsaken, mistaken

As something essential to his mental state

Was taken.