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Aug 2015
I'm stuck, and I can't get out of this glass box I've put myself in.
My destination is so clear, yet the steps I take lead me no where.
I can see, but I can't touch.
I can move, but I can't step forward.
Always in the same place, no matter how much time passes.
I am still, in an ever moving moment.
And I am scared.
Because in this glass box I am safe.
I do not move so I do not change.
Nothing can touch me when I am out of touch with the World.
For in my own Space,
my own Universe,
my own World,
I am both rich and poor, Ruler and subject.
I make my own Laws and I break them.
I see all, yet, I don't see nearly enough.
I can fly, but only so high,
and for this reason I am free within my own prison.
A prison I can shatter with a pin, but can't even crack with a hammer.
A prison that if I so choose, can unlock, with a single key.
A key, I've had in the palm of my hand, since it's creation.
And yet, I still stand in this glass box,
waiting,
Β Β hoping,
that someone will come save me,
because I can't seem to save myself...
yet.
Saudia R
Written by
Saudia R  Toronto
(Toronto)   
762
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