There are trains,
always heading down the same vein,
outside of your window.
Under electric blankets,
I observe a world that I never really felt part of,
as it parades past your window,
trying to impress me,
but I can only ever look,
I can never explore.
Exploring is danger,
and I’m so delicate these days,
as you beg me to be apart from my phone,
and see the world around me for a moment.
You have made a new world,
where I could exist,
as a collection of lights and lasers,
but it is just a fantasy.
I think that you are just a fantasy,
and I will never be safe, free or truly fulfilled,
but I want to be.
I always wanted to be.