Me and my Bear

I, without direction, lost amidst this seperation. I am here, an outsider. Not that fitting is a thing for me, distraction must and ever be, contained and I not one.

I hear this, I feel this, I am aware.

Within my cave I curl into my bear. 

"Show me." I whisper, and she will oblige. To be comfortably within and not of one.

So, I, be out and looking in on glass houses and us and them.

Not I, say we, my bear and me. For all is inclusive and unity prevails.

Of family, bear whispers, we choose and dismiss. Of patterns created we see what we miss. So on we weave gleefully oblivious, of what we have seen and we share.

I close my eyes to it. I don't want of it. I can deny and with eyes closed I do.

Open them, bear whispers, see that you're there too. A demon to them and to them just a ghost. Not nearly quite far enough, but come in. 

Do unto others as they'd have you do. Give of yourself and you pay. Pennies not good enough, diamonds too rough. Seal your mouth, open wide and come up just for air. 

Just now fold under, my bear and myself. Breathing not quite enough stolen and where. I'm only here but not welcome in there. To my cave with just me and my bear.