The others

They come alive in the comfort of the dark
They, who search for freedom all their lives
But never find it
They do not weep for the dead
And their words are like silent rain
You can see it in their eyes, the weariness,
The willingness to disappear,
The desire to chase happiness,
And the prudence of not doing so
It’s strange, you think,
For one to be so disconnected,
And to perceive reality so deeply
That you wish to escape it

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