Caged and trapped in my own boundaries.
Blocked in and stifled by my too keen awareness of right and wrong.
Knowing full well that my right and wrong is right and wrong.
Incapable of slipping past the lessons I’ve learned so well.
They cannot be ignored.
Why is freedom so dangerous?
Boundlessness such a malady?
Why can’t my heart be satisfied with propriety?
It all seems so stilting.
Restraining my nature to play.
I have no real reputation to protect.
What is the point of constant denial?
The inner man constantly straining against the bands.
They stretch only so far enough as to tease;
Then snap me backward from genuine desire.
A desire to be seen, to be known, heard.
A character flaw.
Simply to undress and not care;
Not consider consequences, ramifications, effects, affects.
I dare not even write in my own name.
Shielded by pseudonym, still afraid.
What will they think?
All the “theys.”
How did “they” ever become so powerful?
Powerful enough to make me self-anesthetize.
When will I be free of “they”?
Will I ever?
What exactly is it that I cannot do and why can’t I do it?
So that’s why I devour the tales,
And consume the story.
Fantasy, romance, thriller, shocker, mystery, yarn.
Escape from my own encapsulated existence.
Breathing through the holes in the box.
I will break out soon and no one will stop me.
When they finally let me.
~ 30 ~