It always depresses me
to observe those who shun
the confines of their character.
They continue to be enslaved.

They seem to only live half a life.
To hide in elusive shadows,
with fear guiding slaves by the reins
to eternal paranoia.

Their pride is what refuses
any sort of helping hand.
It's as if they seek for
a glorified self-destruction.

Their desire to be free
is only a wistful dream.
A cruel game of window shopping
within their warped mind.

These creatures always intrigued me,
who shun themselves and those who care.
A desire to be true to oneself
Yet, make no effort to change.