Oh, tim'rous beastie
This wind is too much for me
Do not fly away

The mirror reflects a life eternal,
A thousand scars entirely internal,
Mortal instants of existence persist
In entrapping souls that cannot resist
The pull of the desecrated altar
Upon which the faithful can only falter
And fail to live a life that has an end.
And so they pretend.
They pretend and play at mortality
As if they were more than an abnormality
Of an unending perception of time,
Trapped in a moment, or a rhyme,
They continue to temper their voice,
As if speaking it was ever their choice.

Perhaps I could solve all this,
These problems we're drowning under.
People around me are faking bliss,
As if their worries don't tear them asunder.
But it has to weigh on them too.
I'm not the only one gasping for air.
They've strength to put on a brave face, and do
Everything they can to survive a life unfair,
Maybe I could too, had I that drive,
The flame within to see my hopes flowered
Into something that makes me proud to be alive,
Or maybe, I could finally be a coward.

I had a poem ready, a light-hearted ode
To identities I'd rather have,
And lives I'd like to live.
But in hindsight seems insensitive,
Simple references to machines of war,
Turn from what was implied.
Because the inference is the key
And right now such things are taboo,
Not from some self-important sense of justice,
but because of the nightmares we're about to live through.
I can only pray;
Wishing this isn't what we are.

An infestation
Roaches defy purity
Yet it continues

I can think of nought with more power
Than that which can convey so much.
There's beauty and simplicity to a flower,
So too in horizons, and seas, and such.
Yet it's language that hits me here,
And brings endless tears to my eyes;
They can convey such joy, rage, fear,
Emotions that I used to despise.
Yet I've learned to appreciate what's afore me.
Love has a power I can't begin to see.

Yet the yearning in my heart desires more

Yet I can't feel a solitary **** thing

I can still recall how my heart sped up so,
Yet the image of such surprises me.
Am I still capable of love? I don't know.
My eyes have been open so long, they can't see.

I've gone back and reread them,
Those words I wrote for you.
It was from this heart they did stem,
Yet to me now, it all seems untrue.

I remember that I remember loving you,
But in the years gone by my love has dried.
What would that I could choose to imbue
Another soul with what has since died.

But I can't remember how to love.
I can't be certain I can still love.

A single dream
Was all it took to break me

A life far more complex than mine,
I'll grant that it was not ideal.
A life filled with choices too asinine
to consider how it would make me feel
But doing anything, to look as right in that dress,
An honest truth, admittance, I'll acquiesce.

All it took to break me
Was to wake up from that dream

The world fades for just a moment,
A single instant with nothing afore me.
This is different from normal, that's clear.
Not the sudden loss of time I fear
Will set the anxieties of she
Who could never read my intent.

Yet gazing into my reflection,
My eyes see once again,
I return exactly where I left.
This time, I'm not bereft
Of what is torn in twain
From my perception.

This time was different,
Though as exactly why,
I'm ignorant.
But I won't let my mind die.