Bright Lights

I used to stand in line,
Before the highbar,
My hands white with chalk.

The air sat shallow,
Warm and grim,
And I'd look to my side.

A door,
Just one step away,
Held half open.

The sun was bright,
Because the gym so dim,
And I would think what if.

What if I just took a step outside,
And I didn't walk back,
Just without warning I'd left.

But I never did,
I thought my coach would yell or I'd make my mother frown,
And nothing would change.

I often dream of the day,
That fateful time that I'll hear it rain,
And I'll be given the chance to slip by unnoticed.

Maybe I'll walk for days,
Hell maybe even through the brisk nights,
Homeless but joyous because at least I'm free.

Maybe this time they won't sin,
Or the blood dripping from pathetic pipes shan't blind me,
Or I may (even) be let to spread my wings and fly!

But here I stand,
In shackled iron which grinds my mind raw,
I sit feeble in what could have been my throne.

Life putting its talons around my neck,
And slimmy shadows creep behind,
Their essence begging god and mind to just finally let them die.

Or,
Maybe,
Freedom is just one step away.