Harsh Reality

There is no comfort in of old friends. People who know every inch of you; Every second of your day spent in their pockets, Their minds wandering into your soul as if they are Entitled. A constant painful reminder That you were different. You once were another person, Maybe you have grown, but Maybe you have changed. No comfort. As it is terrifying, Haunting, Nightmares, Nothing less than terrifying in the middle of the night waking up in a Cold sweat. No comfort. Only the free bird can soar Finding beauty in the pounding flaps of their feathery wings ‘How amazing’ you will say Completely and utterly Envious Of this bird, bird, that has soared farther away than you could manage. Is it beauty? Freedom? ‘How wonderful’. But you are a brick wall. You are neither beautiful nor mysterious, You are neither free nor wonderful, Certainly not amazing - To say the least. You are a brick wall that sees nothing but the past, Never the present, And rarely the future. Standing still and strong, Yet constantly wondering which feather will break the camel’s back. Beg for an escape Deserving a release There is no empathy left in this world Full of tigers and zebras. No chance. Fall to your knees and accept your fate Your last words will come out as a painful cry but Will fail to project. See them circling up above You see them in your dreams First, they are beautiful soaring ahead, Then they are dark and vicious. You know what happens next. Is it over? Are you here for good now, Or are you finally able to escape? Tell me when it’s over So I can crawl out of your pocket and back to The streets Comforting And suffocating But old friends are here And it’s fine once again.