Chameleon

Faux interests pile up, but your shovel is broke.
 
Soon you will collapse into this cave that you've dug,
and on your own sick dirt you will choke.
 
Chained to the ground, shadows invoke your thoughts.
Crying and screaming you give up on the spot.
 
Would you prefer a life with sand in your eyes?
Wading through the desert with no oasis in sight?
 
Only you can remove what it is that binds.
Only you can live for what is right.