Run

I would like to run. But I cannot. I'm in a box. I kick at the smooth almost glowing walls. it does not budge. I scream. nothing comes out I cry. but my tears are made of diamonds. why diamonds you may ask? I do not know. as I cry, I cannot help but admire the beauty of my tears. I wish they weren't beautiful. I wish they were clear, soft, and wet. i wish they dried on my pale cheeks and left stains. I try to run. But again, I cannot.