Forlorn Gratitude

I remember when I was young

I used to catch grasshoppers and keep them in a plastic bottle.

And then watched them through their discovery that their world had shrunk.

They'd desperately search for a way out, but always ended up at the bottom

A dead end. They'd crawl awry until they'd get tired and accept they're stuck.

After sometime, with all the components that they were used to before.

Darkness, humidity, and grass to mow. They start to forget what it was like to have more.

They start to consider that plastic bottle as their new world.

They start to move more confident even having their wings furled

I'm the grasshopper now I am grown

I've built my own plastic bottle around myself

It protects me from the outside world like a fortitude

The only difference is I've never seen outside my shell

But the security I feel here is my forlorn gratitude