Only 25 Poem by poem whore

I live in a tiny box where only a few can see
I am his heart that never bleeds I care and love but he doesn't see
famly and friends are not what they once were to me the joys in life are sandpaper to my tounge as though the flavor fades to dust, foggy, gray haze over my life, a stink, a whole, where does this life go? forward I push paste my paste to step in the same shoes but on a diffrent path.......