Inside, Outside

"From Inside..." There is no “in” For there is no “out”, And how can one exist Without the constant other? There would be here If there were there Or elsewhere Or anywhere, really. There is merely existence, Though it cannot be proven Without the knowledge Of its counterpart. Existence screams in silence And monsters lurk behind shadows (But how are there shadows, When there is no light?) Waiting, Waiting, Always waiting though they know not what for, For they feast on euphoria And they’ve never known A full stomach. Down here, They only ever starve. Perhaps that is why The monsters are so thin, So sickly, So utterly terrifying. Perhaps they have never been loved, Perhaps they don’t know how. Perhaps they chase down happiness, Just begging for a taste. And maybe they Are so starved for love, Any attention is enough. So they cause panic And fear, And their victims cannot leave, Brought into a pit Not of hatred, but Devoid Of love, Deceived. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ "From Outside..." Knowing what lies within Makes looking outside Decidedly difficult, First. It’s not easy to forget The monsters that lurk Behind every available shadow But With closed eyes Pretending is easy And the lights are on, Out here. A new perspective, yes? Watching the silent walls breathe From outside, Rather than in. The stones are more An art exhibit, Where once they seemed like boulders. The old wooden roof Is bright, Vibrant, A mural of violets and roses Known formerly to block out sunlight And keep awful creatures in It is now an umbrella, Providing some shade For when the day grows hot. Outside, there are flowers Blooming bright between cracks In the solid rock wall But inside, remember, Moss like slime drips Black oily ooze-- Drip, Drip, Drip, In the dark depths below. Keeping aware Of the horrors inside Is not a difficult task, But to let go, To see the light And the stones And the roof And the flowers, That is something else entirely.