Why is it?

Could it be the air that fills my lunges with stagnant stale failure to overcome

Could it be these walls that surround me, trapping my freedom, restricting my places to run

Or maybe it’s the people, with their consistent bickering stench of negativity and dependence on me

The streets I have always walked on, so much so that each brick has tasted my soul at least once

Sceneries I’ve gazed upon to the point I could paint them with my eyes closed

Conversations and dialogue I’ve shared with people I’ve known all my life

Maybe it’s the routine of it all, and my soul is that of a nomad

The days I have resemble those I had

Nothing is new, everything is done

I think that is why I hate it so much

Unable to spread my wings, unable to do me

Restricted by bonds, restricted by their reality

Their ignorance, stupidity, unwillingness to accept new things

I think I struck a nerve

Challenges are what makes life worth living

Trial and error were made to overcome

For me succeeding is essential, for me victory is fun

Taking risks are what makes it all worth it

That is my answer to the question Why is it

I hate being stuck staring at the sky

A caged bird able but unable to fly

That is why I leave

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