I've settled in,
made myself cozy in his mediocre linen.
I am kept safe under the weight of his blankets.

I've been staying in this haven for years.

He has a habit of depriving me of experiencing the cruel world for myself.
It may be painful, but it is crucial to development.  
I'm warm in his queen sized bed.
Why would I want to leap out of it?
You are either living, or dying.
Right now, I am dying.
I am suffocating from a lie, actually.