And string into vivid movies
That keeps playing in my mind,
Like a broken record.
When I look at colors,
The gears in my brain immediately crank to
Transform them into pleading emotions
That seep into each other
In a harmonious bloodbath of chaos.
When I listen to music,
Each note wraps itself
Around me like armor,
Cinching my very soul in a comforting manner,
Providing the safety and protection I crave.
“Normal” isn’t in my dictionary
The same way “sane” isn’t,
But what fun is there to be had
Being a quiet little girl that nods?
The daydreams my precious mind concocts
Drown out my miseries,
Distracting me with my very own revels,
Ones filled to the brim with
Ball gowns,
Daggers,
And the sinfully delicious power
That rests within the gold-lacquered crowns.
No I am not normal,
In any way, shape, or form,
But my insanity is my last shred of hope,
The final string holding me up.
Because when I fall down
A whirlpool of pandemonium,
I don’t break,
I don’t fall apart,
I don’t cry for help,
Oh no no,
I land gracefully on the ceiling
And grin with a ferocity even the Cheshire Cat would approve of.
I have tea parties with a fellow mad man
And stew up trouble with certain twins.
I jump on feathery beds at the White Palace
While unlike itty bitty old Alice,
Embracing my lunacy on a throne next to
The Queen of Hearts herself.
I bid my time,
Watching the blue caterpillar with his hookah,
Foggy smoke rebounding in the air,
Until that very bog ripples me back
Into my reality.
But by then the fresh wound of my fall
Is long since
Healed,
Only a scab remaining,
Proving to me that once again
The concoctions of my beautiful brain
Are my very own fallen angels
That time after time
Tempt me with their sins,
Making me fall for their charms
As a welcomed diversion from reality.
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