they seem me reflected back
their own demons
swimming in sewers
crushed in the past

it can be hard to express yourself
to be understood
not to feel you are out at sea
clinging onto driftwood

and if you question
then you are told, it is your fault
and that you are releasing –
the insecurities from your personal vault

i am fighting,
punch drunk with the world
leaning into the wind –
and tilting into windmills

something better awaits
but others hold onto me
and tie me to their gates