Hibernating

The smile you used to know, is gone for a while,
During all this relentless toil,
Though I feel dead inside,
Deep within, the spark, I know, still resides,
Although it hides,
For it is tired, and weak,
And waiting for the right time to speak.
 
Day in and day out,
My shell grows weaker, gets knocked about,
My eyes have gone lifeless and dark,
The faint glow of the spark,
Of my soul, can still be seen,
Only if one does tediously glean,
And looks long, and deep,
Studying, searching, my eyes that do weep.
 
Not a soul takes the time to find me though,
They glance at my husk,
Like an elephant, poachers did detusk,
And look down upon, or feel bad for,
And always feel uncomfortable around, like a long, dim, corridor,
And leave before they see my hidden light,
And think their assumption right.
 
They never take the time to see through the cinder block walls,
That I built around my heart, protecting from the cannonballs,
Until I can, with my molten anger,
Fabricate my own cannons, and murder them with their own monster.
 
This job,
Is going to rob,
Me of my sanity,
Like a form of legal slavery,
With little gain,
And leaving me so tired, and in so much pain,
That I have no time for a personal life,
Basically a low level cryolife.
 
Deep within my being,
My spark is hibernating,
I can stay in this death trap, not much longer,
Or I will begin to lose my ability to get stronger,
As I will slowly die from the outside in,
And the little spark, deep within,
Will be all that remains,
And I will be damaged, as if I had chilblains.