If you take a shovel, and dig right into the middle, there are things you'll likely find, quite impossible to riddle, conundrums wrapped entwined, blind alleys, sacs that bind, confusion, chaos, mayhem all well signed; encompassing them all, is the fear of standing tall, of being seen to fall, of rejection all around, the desire to be found, the need to melt into the ground, just to live as if not bound; but you're moulded in their vision, taught to be so since incision, told what, where, when, who you are, plasters, shields overlay scars, behaviours born from who knows where, send your chaos to despair, no support for your constructions, can relieve these sad contortions.
If you don't recognise something in them in you, you're in denial.
If you don't recognise something in them in you, you're in denial.