Home? Refuge? Cage?

Home is sanctuary for the weary traveller.
Home is a cage for the restless adventurer.
This home keeps harm out.
This home reins freedom in.

I'm so tired of this.
Perhaps im being selfish.
Yet, dont we all wish to selfish, insolent, wilful.
Most importantly free at this age.
This golden prime?
All too well to go to waste playing the sitting duck.
Whiling the time away.
When can i be let free?
To do what i want?
To face what i need to face.
To emerge from this protective shell?
To take some responsibility.
To face the music.

Oh please. Let me be.

Such fine practiced liars. All.

Don't ask me why.
You know I know.
That its a daily, constant ritual that we lie to ourselves.
Such as this society demands now.
Day after day.
Month after month.
Year after year.
Secrets. Pain.
And all those that can only be kept to oneself.
Not publicised.

One moment, we relive our pain. Memories and reminisce.
Snap.
We are back to 'reality' where such saddening things have no place.
And invite nothing but scorn and disdain.
Perhaps ignorance is preferred over outright dislike.
But who knows what brews behind peoples' appearances.
I cannot decide which being the lesser 'evil'.

Perhaps that's the price of life and of happiness.
Whats joy with no pain?
Perhaps we have to drag along this baggage to feel somewhat alive.
In this ever numbing world.
Perhaps, its not so bad after all.