Golden Parachutes, And Weathermen...

Ever the optimist, looking forward to a long gone climax.
Until every part is stripped, and then comes the outrage,
Far too late for most, and tiredly they accept fate.

Yes, you realised the cage was always there, but little did you know
How confining it would feel, as you weren't grown.( Even if it is a solitary space.)
Once meadows of beauty, now savage fields of shrewd Earth.

Silver linings tarnish, when not minded.
Memories like double-edged swords.
Peering through frosted windows, into worlds of summer.

Gleeful acceptance, preservation of the little sanity left.
Smiling daggers, intensely.
Gritting teeth. Sore jaw.

Not every moment matters, most are forgotten.
Even the ones you wish weren't.
In time, you forget their voices.

The last thing your forget before you leave here, is yourself.
Because it was never yours.
Any part of you could be taken, at any moment.

But in the end, it's just a temporary platform.
As you fall through the hole, and down the drain,
Leaving reality, or at least one idea of it.