Reality

I want to walk out in the sun and enjoy the warm breeze on my face,
yet when i do all i feel is my skin slowly burning and the sickness running threw my veins like a fish trailing down a stream of never ending doubt.

i want to lay on a field of grass and dandelions to enjoy the sounds of wind blowing my hair,
yet as i do i can feel the itchiness of every strand working its way to my heart, trying to eat away at the only joy i feel on this hill of pain.

they say all roads lead to home, yet the roads i choose to take lead me to cliffs and when i peer over the edge to the very bottom i see the most beautiful flower growing in a mound of dirt just waiting for it to be rescued.
by the time i finish falling the flower is dead and all i am left with is another mountain to climb leading to the same fate i always take.
life is full of so many disappointments and they say 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger' yet with every hill i climb i feel my bones getting weaker, 
i feel my heart struggling to pound and my breath scratching at my throat as i breathe in oxygen less air.
i don't want to climb the tallest mountain and see a beautiful view,
if i climb the tallest mountain i expect there to be a bed,
with pillows and a blanket,
so i can curl up and regret my decision to adventure out of my house and into the open because doing that meant walking on burning hot knives with no shoes on,
being jabbed and sliced with opinions causing their infection to bubble through your bloodstream and fry your brain.

growing up means,
not even in your bed is safe.