He couldn’t do it,
this isn’t a poem,
even if it rhymes
even if it won’t.
He would look at himself in the mirror
met knew people every day, and smile.
Not because he had to, but because he did,
he just did, and it was probably nothing.
He met different people,
smelled distinct smells,
visited exotic places
and heard fresh voices.
He lost his confidence somewhere,
somewhere he couldn’t recognize,
because he wouldn’t leave his house,
the way he was supposed to, with his glasses on,
because he lost confidence, someplace incompatible.
He managed to fly while being awake, no glasses on
everything seem unfamiliar to his almost-blind eyes
there where no signs, no people to take anything away
and it was probably nothing but it felt like the world.