I long for my days to end, so I can lay my head back down.
The few days that I can get myself out of bed.
I look forward to the dreams, the nightmares, anything to escape this world.
The ability to lose myself, lose all control.
Lost in the dreams that seem to accentuate the world more than reality.
Dreaming of being the driver steering off the road.
Because when I open my eyes, and I see the world as it truly is,
I realize something.

I am not the cure to a better life for you. I cannot completely diminish the wrongs, the pain.
I can only create more doors. A treatment rather than the full alleviation.
I may open windows, create a cool breeze, but I will never be your final choice.
I will never be the worthy among the many alternatives.
I will never be the drive pushing you out of your comfortable zone, the one behind your wheel.
You may relieve my pain, assure me I would go to all limits,
leave me only one door to choose from with absolute certainty it is the only one I want,
but that is not where you are.

You tell me I am wrong, tell me everything is going to be okay,
but the truth comes out time and time again.

Because I go the extra mile, and I take the extra steps,
and you just remain still,
contemplating which door to walk through next.