I ran away from home.

I ran away from home,

But not really far,

Just to the basement,

Behind the tall stacks of boxes,

Filled with odd junk.



Only there I could retreat,

Into the world I created,

For myself.



I could be whatever,

I felt like.



I could be a nefarious bat,

Flapping grey moleskin wings,

Swooping about,

Nipping like a golden retriever,

The pulsing veins of the unwary.



I wouldn’t be too snarky,

Like my counterpart,

The bat of the dungeons.



The entrapment within my own mind,

Only lasts for awhile.

Reality calls,

With screams of anger,

Stinging pain from,

Unknown objects,



They are disappointed with me,

I am not like them.

They plan to assimilate me,

Take away my quirks,

Leave a plastic soul,

A faceless human,

Without a voice,

Silenced in the time of need,



Neglected hope,

Patched with false dreams,

Of grandeur and myth,

It is never true.



Then why am I still here?

Frozen in the crossroads,


Enviously watching others,

Moving to unknown destinations.

Or am I already there?


Or is this a limbo,

A point I ponder and repent,

For sins I never committed.

I can still idly stay,

Cemented to my spot,

Waiting for the time,

That I unfreeze,

And move like them,

To unknown ends.


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