The Black Sheep

Pushed aside, location of home obscured, limited by isolation: drifting aimlessly - subscribing to a voluntary incarceration. Outcast by an alternative perspective, a differing sense of direction, through a desire to develop resolutions to numerable imperfections. Others recede into bad habits - shirking from every challenge, placing emphasis on ignoring responsibilities; yet expecting a life that’s lavish. So it’s hardly surprising when their dreams fall by the wayside, having taken the easy road too often, they’re fighting against a landslide to recuperate what was lost, or rather thrown away by being lax and care-free, they’ve imposed upon themselves a limit, as to what they can achieve. Armed with the powerful weapon of fore-sight, I clawed myself out of the rut, but it’s little consolation for having to watch my friends get stuck. Trying to avoid a patronising tone, I conceal myself into anonymity - uninspired by foolish games, approaching every overture with timidity. Wanting to tell them to change, to realise their mistakes, but sometimes things are hardest to see when they stare you in the face. It’s their life to live, and do so how they wish - I just pray they realise: there’s more to it then “getting pissed”.