Who are they? Your foreseen opposition that holds you back from that which you love? Who gives the power over your thoughts and words but yourself? You alone give them the strength to force into a small concrete cubical where the only thing you can hear are thoughts that are not your own and breath that you no longer wish to take.

Day in and day out at you slough at your work, till your fingers bleed with pride and your gaze falters because you have been staring past the expiration date of time into the oblivion that you've come to know as your future.

Who are they? The shadows that darken your brightest days? The ones that send your mood into an overcast gray on days you wish the world would stop turning if only for a moment so you could be given a break.

Who are they that judge your scars?

Your past?

Your trials and tribulations?

Are they those whom you've come to think?

Or simply yourself looking through another piece of glass?