Everything is locked inside,

I'm nervous, yet ready for the next stage,

I'm hidden for now,

but orange juice expires,

just like your sweet milk and cookies, honey.

I feel so lost and inhuman,

but with few different aspects I am a new-bred species.

My mind is completely—and utterly—lost,

I wish I hadn't taken your permanent markers,

and written on my navy-blue walls.

Nobody can see the words in ink,

but everyone can hear the words I think.