Sometimes, there's no better way to say it. You hide. In your books, in your films. In anything that will distact your mind, and make you feel alright. You hide. You don't worry. You're preparing for a war. But, you're always just preparing for war. Inside, you wait. Inside, it's warm. Your castle, your fort, built of flimsy walls, that deflect and reject life,as it beckons and calls. Sometimes, there's no better way to say it, child. You just don't have the balls.