Down the Wishing Well

Hey guys! This is Lily Bennet. This my first post on our awesome blog. It is a poem I wrote just a few minutes ago about how we really don't know anyone except ourselves. All we see of other people is the outside- the shell. I think that a big part of life is the people you spend it with, but it is hard to find the people you want to spend life with, and the people who can make your life happy, if all you can see is a shell. So, here is the poem- Down the Wishing Well:


What do I know of the world?
I know its places well,
but when it comes to the world's people,
what do we know but a shell?


Life is just us, 
searching for ourselves, 
and searching through everyone else-
trying to find someone who fits,
but who can we find
if all we see
is a shell?


I know myself.
I've spent so much time
in my own mind,
but what other mind 
do I really
truly 
know?
We don't really know anyone else very well.


In life we build our own path. 
We lay it down 
brick by yellow brick
with hands raw from work. 
At some point the work begins to make us fall, 
we search for someone to catch us, 
before we destroy it all.


They say
you hear a bell,
quiet but clear,
feel a single tear,
as you spiral down the wishing well.
No more wishes,
just a life of looking at the happy days,
reflected in a mirror 
facing our past.


All this happens 
when you begin your descent
down the wishing well,
and all you have to catch you
is a shell.