I think I've read this book before,
  Hard-bound, shiny cover, pretty colors,
  But and ending that's sure to disappoint.
  It's not what you'd expect when you open the box.
    And all the things that you wished to find,
  Fleeting and taunting, colors drab and ordinary,
  To the brilliant white of not knowing what's inside.
  But how can I bear to behold that dream now,
  And my eyes have adjusted to the concrete of the walls.
  Of this box that I've opened.
    And I know I'm more than just a little f*cked up,
  But I'm trying to make my way back home.