The Group on The Other Side of a Black Fence

I saw you in the pictures. Did you stare at me for no reason? Did you stare for the pleasure of challenging me to a fight to the death? I saw you in slow-motion picking up the pieces, making them swirl and shape, watching through the eyes of a never-ending present, a never-changing moment. If there is envy or jealousy in my words, then what else is left for me to live? If there is digust in what I say, then where would I need to escape? As you turned the clock hands one more time, the faces you used to see have now gone, some of them stayed with blank looks, others are perhaps still here around you, still hear to make a sense. As the cold melts and the wind blows its freezing breath on the last winter days, there is no other way to realise how the page turns even when you think the chapter is closed. I still saw you in pictures with no concern over human property, with no empathy over human connections. I guess everyone fights for their corner, and it might be blissful from your end, as well as theirs, or even mine. You, me, and everyone else, will never see how dirt and dust wrap the external surface of our fence. You, me, and everyone else, will live for what we are limited to see. And perhaps this is what it all comes down to - no escape, no hideout, a simple view to someone's reality.