I tried to fit, to be what they said I should. Easy, they said. Laid-back, simple. "Just be." But inside, a restless hum. I tried to break the box, the one they built so tight. Years of forced smallness, a stunted reach. "Why can't I grow?" the echo in my mind. Preservatives in every offered taste, a falseness. Illusions painted on every view, every rooftop I sought. "Is this all there is?" I'd ask the clouds, the cracks in the walls. I saw it, finally. The giant I was meant to be, trapped. Then, a whisper, a subtle poison, "You are small." And I believed it. Their lies, a fabric woven to confine. "This is your world," they said. "This is your truth." And I, for a time, let them steal my sight. But the hum, it never ceased. A persistent drum. The cracks in the walls, they widen now, a different light. Do I mend the fabric, stay within the lie? Or tear it open, claim the giant, and finally fly? The choice, a precipice, where shadows meet the sky.
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Author:
Eliaskayne (
Offline) - Published: February 24th, 2025 23:42
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 10
Offline)
Comments2
I have worked with bonsai tree and all the time that I read this I could picture them talking. There is nothing bad in being small. It is not the size of the dog in the fight but the size of the fight in the dog. A beautiful poem
Many a good thing comes in small packages, enjoyed the read
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