I have never felt more outside,
As if I am not a real being of flesh,
But rather, I gradually form in the clouds.

A crack of dry lightning illuminates the night sky,
It is getting more and more crowded here as I reach near the end of the cloud,
I am grasping the cloud to prevent from falling,
Falling back to earth,
Falling back to the harsh reality.

When I fall, I wonder where I will end up,
On the green grass of a field perhaps,
In the ocean,
Or perhaps become one with a stream in the Mississippi River.

But sadly, that's not where I will fall,
I will fall on to a time in my past.

I will fall on a window,
And watch as a mother brings the turkey out of the oven,
And watch as a child smiles lividly,
A child who once had a family,
The pain of holding on to this memory eats the happiness inside of me,
But the guilt of letting go of my past might consume me,
So instead I am doomed to hover on this window,
Longing to be in a place I could never enter.

Be it what it may,
By tomorrow I will wind up in another child home,
That is the harsh reality I dreaded.

I am Bound to feel more outside than ever.