Life Not Grown

I don't know why,
But my eyes are forever aimed at the earth.
Grounded by what may be shame, or doubt;
Or maybe fear, never any mirth.

Flagged or labeled;
Avoided by all, I sit alone.
Watching the shadows slowly move;
The walls of my Hollow where they always roam.

Counting the hours grows tiresome;
At best I'll slightly laugh at a funny show.
My vision blurs, with tired eyes;
As I hear the morning rooster crow.

Up all night, yet again;
Wasting my life away.
Watching old movies, black and white,
Forever looking backwards, at yesterday.

When I try to look forward,
At the future my life may hold.
I am blinded by the whiteness;
a blank, empty space, bright and bold.

Not bold from promise,
But at the sheer unknown;
So I look down again,
At the grass not grown.