| Of all the places to be, isn't it ironic, that I am still surrounded by bars and kept from breathing deeply. I feel like a green brick on a wall of swirling oceans. They all move with confidence and force, knowing what they should do. I sit here, unsure and new, afraid of ebbing the flow. Long ago I was confident, long ago I knew what I would do, but now my roots are being torn up, and my intelligent thoughts are gone. Laughter and filled rooms surround me-- they are more bars-- and I feel like the only moving person in a desert of statues. They all left, together, in bunches-- isn't that always the way? I can keep trying to organize my world, but I know it's only a futile effort to have a purpose in life. Try to sound poetic, end up looking pathetic, and then realize this is no place for a free spirit. Teased, taunted, too young-- calling for Mommy in the midst of it all. Look silly, look like you are. |
| Changing Places |
| ... |