Categories > Original > Poetry1 Reviews
So, come one, come all, to this moonlit masquerade.
Forked knives breaking down force fields, the battle is won,
So, come one, come all, to this moonlit masquerade,
Let’s sit and wait in anguish as the colors begin to fade,
Knee-deep in nostalgia with my mindset stuck on melancholy,
They’ll take my blades away because they think they can set me free,
But I’ve come to the conclusion that their hypothesis is wrong,
And that there will never be a place where I can truly belong,
For I hide under titles, and pronouns, and lies,
And the blade digs deeper to sever my cries,
Oh, how little I care for the blood that spills,
But how much I long for a little more free will,
I confiscated the ability to make an unbiased decision,
And I won’t give myself permission to regain it, incision,
Give it up, relapse, drown, whatever the cost,
I’m scared, I’m alone and I’m completely lost,
My wide eyes, deer in headlights, I’m far too scared,
You reach out, I fall in, please, tell me that you care,
If you’re feeling a little lost, then won’t you raise a hand?
I knew all along that I’d find someone who understands.