You were never a part of them, admit it. At night, just
before you fell asleep, you tried to tame all your raging
thoughts, those that appeared in the shape of angry beasts,
leaping from your blue deceitful eyes, into the lonely room.
You caged them and whispered to their hearts words of a
foreign language, but they understood. They knew that all
you wanted was to accept your life, to recognize that this
is it, and not the fantasy world that you nourished all
these years, to live your life as you were always a part of
them, of the day-to day people walking in the streets,
oblivious to the reasons and circumstances that brought them
here to begin with. But, your evil most dark pet monsters,
that refused to free you, wouldn't let you. Because of them,
you had to kill any real emotion that came along, any
genuine happiness turned grey in your hands, and soon you
became an empty being, wearing your skin and flesh as a
disguise, always fearing that some intelligent eye would
recognize that you are not a human being, yet your nature is
and will remain unresolved. When you look in the big mirror,
the reflection is alarming since you can see that the
passion is lost, that the purpose, that long ago seemed so
clear to you, that you felt it in your bones, in the air
surrounding you, in the movements of the clouds, is very
pale, and soon will fade away, and even you would not be
able to bring it back. You are by far your biggest enemy,
and many wars were fought and lost in your soul, leaving you
wounded badly, bleeding quietly without anyone outside you
even suspecting that you have experienced such horrible
ordeals. You wear your pride on your back, like a majestic
cape, never letting anyone taking it away, and because of it
you will never feel the satisfaction of relief and freedom
that follow forgiveness. It is some world out there    that
forces you to pretend you're someone else, and you question
how many people really know you, and would they still be
with you after you reveal your true self? You are mad at the
moon and the skies that witness your misery and do nothing
to help you, the moon keeps on smiling to you from the
night, and the skies keep on counting your days, those that
already passed by, mostly unused, with unfulfilled dreams to
go along, and those who are to come. But mostly you are mad
at yourself, for your cowardice, and for your tendency to be
your own captive, while the key to opening those heavy
chains around your neck is at hands reach. You want to stop
hating the ones that mean the most to you, but you don't
know how, you want to start believing in yourself when
nobody else does, but you are afraid of trying, you want to
be recognized for what you are but instead you lie to those
who stand next to you and are known for something you are
not. All your thoughts, all your dreams and desires, all of
them take allegiance against you, and you feel that each day
you are a little more emptier than the previous day. Maybe
someday, if you try hard enough, you will be able to be a
part of them, of your life, you might even control it and
decipher the big  crossroad sign that tells you were you
will end up in each direction you choose to go. Maybe you
will use the key to free yourself from your demanding being,
drive away all your beast like fears and weaknesses, and
smell once again the most coveted smell there is, a smell
that is the hardest one to sense - the smell of who you are
and who you will become.