Life is like a box of chocolates,

People always say.

I realize this to be true

As my treats dwindle away.

All that's left in the pretty box are crumbs,

Like someone's soul,

Torn away and eaten up.

Like the insides of a hole

All that's left inside is nothing,

Its missing its fudges and cream.

The things that make up a person

- their individuality -

Is chewed up by the "people",

Leaving them dead inside.

Life is like a box of chocolates,

One to which nobody pay any mind.