floating in bubbles,

one by one.

consumed by iridescence,

heated by the sun.

caught up in the roundness,

the shape of our own pain.

popping each other,

slowly going insane.

thin sheen surrounding us,

warped like a mirror.

nothing’s stopping us,

except our own fear.

longing to escape,

but scared of the unknown.

not ever with others,

but never alone.

we float and float, while

always obsessed

with that outside world,

that may not exist.

This poem conveys my immense frustration at the lack of meaningful connection we have in our everyday lives. We go about as normal, caught up in our own little worlds, wanting to escape but overwhelmed with the effort it would require. Over time, we get so involved with ourselves and the people, places and things immediately around us, that we start to forget that there's more to life, and begin to live in a way that is insubstantial and lacks true significance.