In vain determination
I sweep
pockets of nighttime
from the guarded corners
of my perception

In vain determination
I blink
a dusty darkness
from impaired eyes
that serve me naught

In vain determination
I breathe
in caustic shards
with every gasp
of air that taunts
my life
with fatality.

Did style happen because I copied you or you copied the magazine?
Did I like that activity in special because everyone else did?
Did I change into someone whom I'm not because being myself weren't good enough? Or because I didn't resemble the rest of you?

Is it really so wrong to try and break free from the normalities so I won't become a part of the large crowd. I want to break free and be me.

But to be free and outside of the crowd is lonely. They don't drag you back in, because in reality, where everybody is one and the same; they won't notice when you're gone. If you're gone?

Didn't a part of you stay back?
Didn't a part of you still want to be in the crowd?
Didn't you in reality never leave?

Weren't this not just a part of wish thinking? Imagination?