What a relief it is to not be you,

forever chasing to keep up,

with the small minded pettiness,

the scarred backs and relentless eyes,

glittering behind their jet black wings,

temporary shields of temporary confidence.

And, after all the talk, after all the cursory chatter,

what is left?

when you are no longer in,

for some long forgotten social misdemeanor causes you’re Fall

and you realize there is a place,

outside the secretive walls and painful thin,

the exclusive tables and tanned skin,

and the cold truth dawns on you,

that spending you’re days

trying to live like them,

ended up being no life at all.