Looking Down

    What it would feel like to be out of the cage, apart from the truths constructed of glass and cold steel. Never to have seen the sky any other time, and that first step outside those walls of suits and uniforms and name tags. What a cruel spin to see its nothing but misty mirrors and freezing rain. No birds, no sun, no cotton candy clouds.
The prince was just a fairy tale long forgotten. Out here there is no faith no hope, just the ghosts of the white knights long extinct and fallen kings of old. Empty promises, false realities. What are you waiting for? What are you still fighting for out here in this foreign place? Standing on that stone bridge in the pouring rain, with a damp cigarette hanging from you lips. The lights that brightens then dims and fades away. And the scenery before you is alien, a lucid dream from which you cannot awaken. But there was something romantic about the streetlight in the fog, little stars shining just for you. Clear streets, no noise from all the people, just silver silence. And the sound of the rain, going on and on.
    The memory of your cage is still deep in your mind, calling you back to the safety of the womb. In there is regret and denial, out here is cold and empty truths. You're sure that you should feel elated with the freedom you cannot remember ever calling your own. But this newness, the sweet city air is suffocating. And as much as they tell you that they understand, how could they possibly? It was yours to suffer alone, your burden to bare, your smile that had yet to emerge. And I couldn't take me eyes from it.
I miss you, the you that I'm sure I knew so well, and cant seem to remember at all. Your nostalgic, your eyes, your hair, your voice. I have never met you before, and I cant seem to tell which is reality. The cage or the freedom? The me that was or the me that is? How romantic that you can lose all hope a limitless number of times, pull out the best in those around you. They see you as a butterfly with wing pinned to the wall. Where does the cage end and the dream begin?
  Maybe it was because the rain and fog was so forgiving of all your pitfalls. It echoed everything that was in your heart and soul, your one and only perfect fit. The sweet release in that rain, with that cigarette, your first in all these years. Nothing ever changes, just gets more complicated and easier to lose sight of.
Years since that day I first saw you standing on that street corner, I saw you still waiting there for your white knight. Still standing in the pouring rain, with your head in the clouds and your heart in pieces all around you reflecting back every day I missed. Oh butterfly...you'll never realize how lovely you really are. They'll never tell you, and you'll never believe you could ever get off the ground