With the wings that I've been prescribed with, I can only find flight for a short amount of time until I return to the same hellish prison that I belong in. But should I belong here? I've started to question it with every attempt that I wish to flee. I always said that I belong in this miasma of confusion and loneliness, so why do I fight it so often? The swift dichotomy that washes over me refuses me to allow myself to answer these age old questions. So I simply reset behind these bars and accept that it simply may be my own home.
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