True to Me

Just For Fun

Walking on a dream
A bridge from reality
An escape from normality
That’s where I want to be

Sleeping on a moon beam
No-one else is just like me
The only way I can be free
Is to escape from my humanity

Feelings in a ream
Confused but sure actually
Life is unreality
Because I’m true to me

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Pretty Pests

Toward the quarter-turn of my own personal century,
I've fluttered toward lights that warm, burn and misdirect.
As the moth to the lamp, I've bumped and bombarded;
only to be told away, swatted like a pest, and flattened
beneath the wary boot of those who sit above me.
I've made it through moments with little understanding
and little concern for these thoughts and demands made
by a world that never bothered to explain itself to me.
Following no one to nowhere, I've yet to find contentment,
but I've also yet to discontinue all my staggered seeking.
Lost while in captivity, confused by your need for petty ritual,
and constantly beneath this senseless status quo;
I am little more than growing weeds among commissioned gardens.

Will you be a pest with me? To hover about, just out of reach,
and just among each other, lost as we are, in a place made for none.
Chasing decoration with conversation entirely our own
and losing consciousness after tangling and finding out some shade.
I've dreamt of you, the other half to the whole of my absence
from all the senselessness abounding, surrounding,
drowning me in pointless strife and archaic means of judgment.
Were you the one, who's buzzed about my hollow self,
filling me discreetly with dust from your patterned wings:
I would shine my own dazzling beacon in hopes I'd attract you,
though never would I cage you, or cast upon you shadows --
but simply stay illuminated, in hopes to keep you close.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Wanted this to be more conversational and less bound by any sort of strict method.

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I am trapped in time, in a since of normality in my own mind.
Trapped in fear of change, I am cover in invisible chains.
Time flows by like a river, shaping the land around me for all to see.
Trapped, I sit still hoping not to fall in and get washed away, wishing to see another day.
The land now shaped differently and now I find myself lost in what was once normality.
Why didn’t I move with the river, why didn't I adapt and change with the land.
I am nothing but a mortal man who fears tomorrow will be the end.

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