Looking back

Looking Back

When I look in the mirror I don't like what I see.
What looks back at me is a stranger—
somebody who's given in to the demands of others
and stayed too long in the same place.
I want to leave, but the chains around my feet keep me in place.

I no longer want my family obligations—whether they be family or friends.
I want them all to disappear beneath the weeds.
I'm sick of people who only come and see me when they need something.
I'm tired of rules that keep me in place
when I want freedom of movement.

I have sacrificed my very soul for people who really don't give that much of a shit about me.
For what? For their comfort.
Their comfort is my demise.

I want to look back at my 57 years on this life and not see them as a waste.
And yet I’m disgusted when I look in that mirror.