A quiet storm lingered through the woods,
Rustling through the trees.
But inside, the only thing I could hear
Was our breathing.

Dad looked at me, defeated.
I quickly looked away, shaking my head.
What does he want me to say?

I never wanted to live this way,
But I was too afraid.
I followed the rules, I obeyed.
I molded myself like clay
Into the unequipped man I am today.
It all meant something the other day.

Now, life has hit the fan,
And I realize it was all competition and ego-driven.
I spent time following shadows that were not mine.

I slowly limp over to the window with this in mind,
Peacefully staring.
A whole life unlived because I was too busy living mine.

In trying times, the first thing I do is look
To the side, the front, the back,
But there’s never anyone there to ride.

This is by my design,
Chasing nightmares that I swore were the brightest of dreams,
Crushing any life that got ahead of me.
I still don’t know what got into me.

Losing sight made me lose the fight. Now I am here, chest tight, knowing my father and I will curl up tonight, wishing for freedom.

I pushed away from the window and turned to my father, bothered. His breathing ceased; he looked at me as he reached for a chair, never giving up his nervous stare. Deafening silence ruled the air.

‘What are we going to do?
We are liars,
I lie to myself, and you lie to yourself too.
We are selfish,
I rise for me, and you only rise for you.
Clarity is finally oozing through.
We are surviving in a building not built for us
To thrive in; to thrive through.
Someone has to unlock the door—our only chance at a breakthrough.
Now I know believing in a savior hinders you.
Wasting time worrying about the neighbors, they are going through the same things too.
Too busy to rescue!
The perfect design of a trap.
Father, what should we do?
Pace back and forth until death is due?
Lie about the security this building put us through?
Douse ourselves in instability and untruths?
Our ability to find an excuse is nothing new.
Our precious mothers stood here before us.
Your father knew fear before its overuse.
We are the children of people who never knew what to do.
What are we going to do?’