Can't Enter

I'm as light as a feather that falls. As it shields my eyes from the sun, which yields my demise, I sum the fallen struck by light. I can't enter their shadows. Towed along by the weight of the photons reflected towards me, I am pulled forward. There is enough space for this connection, but this tiny hole in my concrete cell is not big enough for me to see outside. I am all alone with nothing of value but the time I have left and what's left of me, so I take a stab at those solid state of atoms with my nails and I imagine every time I strike that I am right in reproducing the justification to the fact that I have been representing the area where I send my potential energy towards as something that I can no longer enter. And when I am awake and well, I stare at that hole that lets this bond between us stay true. All I can see is what anyone who wants to see me sees. I continue to chip at that possible freedom. I have made all of this progress, but I can still not enter.