Scared to face what you really are
After four long years of so-called growth
Do you ever stop running?
Or do you fall back into the same old predictable patterns
You've grown so fond of
That you don't even bother to create new ones?
Nothing will get better
You tell yourself just so you don't face the disappointment
Of actually trying
And yet, when on the rare occasion that you do
Attempt a small variation in behavioral pattern
You go back to the procrastination blanket
Because you feel so safe and unburdened from the world
Yet the world is about to knock down your door
And grab you, and throw you into the cold, dark streets
And you won't have any shelter to shield you from
The dense, scrutinous eyes
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