Lines

It seems as if I can see for the first time.

For my whole life I was placed on a track,

they put blinders over my eyes,

They only wanted me to see straight in front of me;

I never questioned what was around me,

I simply thought life was like walking in a line

There was never any bends or dead ends,

And if there was an obstacle

It was always expected.

I was like one of those racehorses,

Taught to run,

Taught to win,

It was simply commands and conforms.

Objections were impeded, triumphs were praised;

With those blinders on it was all black and white, all up and down,

There was nothing in-between,

Only lines.

Now I stand,

Looking down the track,

The bit cutting my mouth.

I can feel it now,

The pain,

The salty blood,

The sharp sting of the whip;

Like a wasp

it bites me,

But I know it will not die.

The bell rings,

The gates snap open

But I will not run.

I will not win.

But I do not care,

Because now I can see;

there are more than lines,

there are colors.

But it all seems fake,

Surreal

A mistake.

People smile,

They laugh,

But everything is too bright, too furnished,

Vivacious;

I try to walk

But there are no lines.

I start to spin,

Fourteen times.

Their eyes watch me,

Cold,

Their smiles all forged by one hand.

I want my blinders,

I want my lines,

I am lost,

But they are still blind.