Doors clank
Keys jingle
Walk into a room
Scared to death
This is when i'm a physco
Final destination the psychiatric ward

I dance.
I point my toes till they hurt.
I stretch every muscle in my body,
Even the ones that I shouldn’t.

 
I move across the room,
To every dusty corner,
Using all the space I have,
In this tiny room.
 

I smile,
As I lift a leg,
Turn it into the right position,
Try and ignore the pain,
 

I place myself for a pirouette,
Turn out my feet,
Widen my arms,
And let go.

 
My leg stays under my knee,
My arms come closer,
As my weight leans backwards,
I fall.

 
I regain my stamina,
And try again.
Doing the same as last time,
I fall.

 
I change my position,
I bring my weight forward,
And when I thought I did it,
I fall.

 
I got back up in anger,
The smile vanished from my lips,
I turn again and again,
Wanting to be perfect.

 
My last twirl,
I kept going on,
Turning with no end,
Until I collided into a wall.
 

I fell, once again,
But did not get up,
The white light was burning my eyes,
And like that,

I was gone

Why should I recite a poem?
When poems do not make the point
Why should I sing a lullaby?
When you cannot make gold of columbite
Please pardon these stream of senseless sentences

   Why should I wear the baby a bib?
When there is no food, not a bit
Why should I plant and not water rose?
And yet anticipate it grows
Trust me prayers pay side by side practice

   Why should I tell tales of times untold?
When time –the teller- never told
Why should I curse, condemn and crucify the crown?
When the crown is another’s clown
Please forgive me for my rhymes are full of follies

   Haven’t these ills been told by many?
Yet those a-thrones do not give a penny?
Havent these been written in poetry plays?
Played on the crown who laughs and pays
Ah, the human heart is hardened

   Will we ever change this attitude?
And put an end to this servitude
Would that not put an end to this penurious life?
And make men once again well-wife
Once was life, now it is just strife

   I wish we will live another once.

I walk with my head down
trying not to be seen
But I can feel them staring
their eyes boring into the back of my head
as I continue down the empty street
alone

Without the danger,
where's the excitement?

Without the consequence,
where's the temptation?

Without the pressure,
where is the drive?

As you create rules,
you create deviants.

As we have well known
for ages ages upon ages:
the forbidden fruit is the sweetest;
yet, we continue to condemn.