Standing on either side of the fence,
Their obscure faces stare through the barbed wire back at you,
As if you are something unearthly,
There are millions of them and only one of you,
The feeling that you’re an outcast rises in you.
But little do you know there are fences between each and every one of them, too.
And life on your side is hard,
Tears flow down your cheeks and wet the ground,
All day you watch them as a group,
With a neglected need to be understood at the front of your mind,
However much you think and feel determines the strength of the metal that cruelly divides.
You try to bring down the fence with all your strength,
But it’s invincible, unbreakable,
In extreme frustration you fall to the ground.
Instead, you resort to words,
You make an attempt at casual conversation,
Tell them that your favorite colour is red,
But they decide that, actually, it’s blue.
All that you are and all that you do isn’t really down to you.
At the end of the day,
All you can do is watch,
And if you have the will power,
Maybe you’ll try talking again,
Each word forming nothing but circuits of paths that have already been circled a thousand times or more.
Standing so near, only a meter apart,
Talking so loud, shouting, screaming,
Yet you’re all half the world away,
And you fear there’s nothing you can do,
Hope is rapidly becoming a distant memory to you,
Something that is lost and never returned,
Like the innocence of a long-gone childhood,
When the loudness of the fence had yet to be heard.
God knows they feel the same way,
Wishing you were on their side of the fence,
But by now you’ve all grown to dismiss this dream as an ignorant childish dream,
It is the way of life,
It is destiny.
Empty shells are all you know,
Everything from miles around is a blur,
Half expecting for the men in white to take you and save you at any moment,
Reconnect you with the other side,
Restore the past,
When your eyes weren’t filled with half as much mad;
But they are as stunned and as broken as you.
And all you hear are faint echoes from galaxies away,
Occasionally touching fingertips through the gaps in the wire,
All feeling nothing but the dull ache of desire.