[Sometimes, I tell myself]

I know you better than I know me.
I’ve seen your thoughts, and heard your fears;
There are times, perhaps, when I’ve even been more afraid than you;
More afraid for you:
Afraid that you’d never see what I see–
The colour of your soul
(Sunshine-yellow, tainted round the edges in bitter-black)
Just a little smudged in crimson near the centre.

Yes, I’ve been concerned;
I am concerned:
That this battle you’ve fought
(This battle you are fighting),
Would take from you all that’s yours;
It’s hard to recall that this battle is after all only yours–
Difficult to mind my manners, and my tone, in this war of sorts;
The kind of war we once fought side by side,
‘Cept, now we’re enemies, with our guns drawn:
Snipers holding our breaths ’til the air’s gone, and the wind is right…

So yes, I’ve wanted freedom:
(Craved liberation till I could no longer think, or feel or function),
But not from you, only from these cages we’ve trapped ourselves in:
Titanium bars with platinum locks–
Cage “Don’t give”, and Prison “Don’t take”.

So yes, maybe I do want liberation,
But not from you, only from these bars.

Wednesday, October 1, 2014. *During the last minutes of Theories of Personality*