Fuel

I'm going to be honest.
I know nothing about poetry.
I know lyrics; I write them like Taylor Swift finds new boyfriends to publicly humiliate,
but I know nothing about poetry.

I do, however, know a little about bubbles.
You probably see them as a shield,
their pristine armor protecting,
keeping the outside air out
until they glimmer away into the wind.

But bubbles don't protect the inside.
They're just a wall, preventing each side from finding reality.

The inside babies the prideful.
It praises the selfish, the judgmental, the pretenders,
and most of all
the liars.
The outside lets loose the dirty, the sinners, the rationalizers, the work-a-holics,
and the reckless.
At least they're honest about it.

So you can see things as a shield from either side
keeping the real you in or the potential you out.
But there's pins everywhere, their points ready to go.
Pick one up when you are too.