does anyone ever wonder

if the dreamer gets tired

of figures dancing before their eyes

of sunflowers and butterflies

of battlefields and bloodshed

of the illusions and the false reality

how they’re trapped in their world of fake walls,

and madeup landscape

with no escape

I’m angry
With the man in the mirror

But at least now
It’s only shattered glass.

does anyone ever
reach their hands up to the sky
tricking their brain
into touching high places

brushing their fingers
over places, they’ll never reach

the impossibility of the vertical

and the inability of it all.

sometimes it feels like

i'm backseat driving

in my own body

and all i can do is

watch the car crash

over and over.

there is this battle
in some people
where their instinct is to survive
while their mind wants to shrivel up and die.

this you see, is how people lose themselves
and become
a third party in their own body

our world is burning around us

and our parents expect us to sit at home

it's not our fault

we don't want to live in ashes

that we want to put out the fire

before it consumes us all