Right foot next to the left,

Dont trip dont fall.

even as you slip and slide on their lies,

hurts and wounds takings its toll.

trying to find purchase on your broken dream,

scratched and mauled, yet you keep at it,

for the milling crowd's trained clone is what you are.

Blink and breathe,

cold droplets on your already frozen skin,

stop and wonder,  

are we enjoying the idea of rain,

or the singular benevolent beauty of it?

Slitted wrists and suicide notes have become common tales,

among one breathe and the next.

silent screams that  went unseen,

were always hiding among common woes.

Maybe taking a pause or stumbling will me make me seem deviant from the norms,

scrutinized and labelled a word in stark black letters,

stamped on my forehead and called 'next!'

until I'm deemed a pseudo better.

Maybe we are all just strung to each other,

symbiotic and parasitic,

rather than that gilded word called 'fate'. 

tick tock,

the monotone sound of the clock,

passing mercilessly through someone's despair and haunted moments.

stubborn as a new born child,

It wont run away, nor will it stay.

Pitter patter against the window panes,

shameless gypsies peeping at someone's memories,

then falling to its vagabond death,

after falling from the high handholds,

is that what life is about?

All of these attuned to the sound of my breathing,

In and out,

trying not to drown in reality,

but does reality actually exist?