Behind The Mask
A chimney that needs sweeping
And a fireplace half swept;
The flames are eating up the cold,
While I’m swimming out my depth.
You opened all the windows and let the cold back in.
When this is how we gamble,
It’s no wonder I can’t win.
And it’s ironic that the smoke is the thing that drove you out
Cos it’s all smoke and mirrors here
And these reflections cast a doubt
On the person that I’m meant to be,
The person that I feel.
So who the hell are you to judge
When you don’t even see
How I can never be complete when I can never heal.
I remember feeling pushed down but I always got back up
I remember being outside in, and also inside out.
My love of grammar made my prepositions only that...
And my logic always stopped my thirst from feeling like a drought.
I tried to be the person that I thought that I should be
But in the end it’s clear that all that I can be is me.
Loneliest in Company Alone, the haunting strains of metaphorical violin Stretching its strings in a sympathetic restrain Of hollow aching and unrequited love, Screeches to be heard. Surrounded by featureless faces, both empty and familiar, Glassy, animated eyes blinded by themselves And ears deafened by repetitive self-indulgence, A lone voice whispers. In a small room, hearts beating loud as drums, two bodies sit Side by side in silence whilst their minds drift alone. Both minds inwardly focused on the one body, One aware, one not.
Words and lack therof
When words fail,
It seems almost contradictory
To turn to a place of words,
To write a gossamer veil
To hide the truth.
When words fail,
Expression becomes perpendicular
To the honest feeling inside
Free bleeding its painful tale
Over the truth.
Words fail.
Actions surpassed rational comfort
And set a new barre low enough
To be the new holy grail
For evaders of truth.