Outside the Glass
I know “they’re” after me.
I’m used to it though.
I’m sitting by the window.
The sun is setting in that monotonous way.
The sun is drowning, but is still calm.
I feel scared to be by the window.
Because that’s how they get in.
If I can see them, they can get me.
I feel too scared to be locked in a dark room.
Away from the glass that is ready to shatter.
I’m scared either way, so I might as well stay here, and make them think I’m fine.
Because being fine is strong.
Being fine is emptiness.
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