Somehow,
There arose in you
A confusion;
You mis-placed the world
In these objects of desire
Of memory and
Obligation.

But
It is possible to walk away;
It is difficult, but possible.
It is discouraged, but it is possible.
It is possible and, ultimately, essential
To turn to these things and say:
        You are not me;
        You are not my life;
        You are not my home;
        You are not in my heart
        And you never were.
And leave them all behind,
Regaining your sanity
At the expense of all the things
You thought you owned,
But were in the end simply ballast
For the great being of your life,
Until the time came
When you were ready
To spread your wings
And fly.