In everyone lives a little man

Who makes do with what little he can

He scrapes the walls for an easy way out

Instead, he is forced to live a life without.



Without anything to break his seemingly endless fall

We rarely stop to listen for him beyond the unlit hall

Around and within him there is dolor and rage

The only thing to do is to compose himself like an all knowing sage.



The poor little man wishes he can let go

Of all his terrible memories of long ago

But to forget what he has already seen

Is impossible considering what has been.



And what of the little man who triumphs his own fears

He will run free with his eyes laden with tears

But for the rest, it is not quite at an end

The winners have advice that they cannot lend.



For all who wish to escape their own prison

They must have a light that they must envision

To actually escape, which everyone can

Just ask their own private little desperate man.