The whole world spins around me.
faster, faster, faster.
my mind claustrophobic,
My vision is blurred
by the fog of my confusion
on the window to normality.
My only way out,
isn’t one at all.
because ropes are binding me
chaining me down,
Freedom is a fairy tale,
tasted only by those who can afford it.
But this is real life.
We’re chained to our habits
Trapped by ourselves.
To the world, we are flawless seedlings.
But through the eyes of our own,
we are scarred.
We are the slaves,
the slaves who created the fairy tales
that the worthy live in.
While we sit inside broken vessels,
susceptible to falling right through the cracks.
And now
we are holding on.
Not to a rope.
Not to our past.
Not to our fantasies.
But to each other.
~ Chaya Mushka Barchaim
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