“The Outside”

By Elise Bugeja
Glassy eyed I gaze
Glazed over. Overly muddled by the overpowering thickness of the humid fumes
The ever changing global warming in this glass house.
It’s a small bubble. Adorned with intertwining possibilities of ‘The Outside’
Those pesky if’s and might’s which scram the soil in pursuit to strengthen our roots
Latticed eyes enlace the boarder. They smile and monitor your growth rate.
Oh and of Corse,
there is a superior growth method. That one isn’t just a rumour.
It’s that glass ceiling I look up to that looms over my head
Unbreakably intimidating it flickers its twinkling teeth.
In a group of my own I’m bound to the ground
Bound to scrounge and burrow for any extra nutrients I can obtain
Some need more than others, the whispers trickle around
You’ll find out sooner or later where you stand in the pecking order
The more attractive of my sort stand proud, everybody knows who they are
The ‘lesser watered’ stand in their shadows
Everybody knows who they are too…
Such buzzing updates from these two corners are communicated through the roots.
Anticipation for the imminent harvesting is dictated by the changing leaves
Fallen from trees onto dank and mossy underfoot
How they have become brown and have wilted
Their water flows down their arms as they reminisce the days in the green house.
How could they miss breathing in those defining fumes that engulf the persona you neither know nor want to change.
They whisper their legacies under the cracks like forbidden lovers.
‘The adventures of a life on The Outside.’
The only defender from the life of growth and the life of wilting
Is this crying glass, denying any falseness to its distorted reflection of the magical Kingdome we heard is called ‘reality’-
Plucked from our comfort zones we are placed in the basket
Some with white charming scraggily roots still in toe,
Others… without….
The ones with the doubts who were told they’d never make it out
Stand on show with the superior of their kind
With an eyeful of sun, our lungs magnify with the real air they all spoke about
Now for the rest I guess
The magically ambiguous abyss, they call- “The Outside.”

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