Behind This Wall


My wall is in front of me,

It's a barrier of sorts, although protective and warm.

Behind this wall is my only home, really.


Behind this wall, I can watch people. How friends interact, how they relate,

I can try to understand people and their motives.

I can try to understand their wounds, their stories, their love and their hate.


That world out there seems self-involved, cruel, vain.

Sitting in the shadows, I don’t have to feel their pain.

I daydream and stare and everything seems like a game.


I’m disconnected and analytical, speculative.

Unaffected, critical and objective.

I don’t have to explain myself or worry about others when alone.


“What are you staring at?”

I’m back to the party I didn’t want to attend.

I need to be convivial, act jovial, pretend.


These people are happy, so I guess it could be worse.

But home is the antidote to my somewhat antisocial curse.

Behind my wall, watching, is social enough.



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