I believe
deep down
I am a bad person

It just so happens to be
that the mask
I am wearing
has a good face
and seems to be covering up
my true bad self
somewhat well

Yet,
if I don't take care and watch out
it might crack
and
blow my cover

I light
the four candles
one at a time.

I place my mask
on my face.

The music
is wild
and somber.

I dance
and dance
and dance.

At some point
I stop thinking.

I just dance
and dance
and dance.

I hurl my frustration
into the
candles of change.

My thoughts are
a whirling
swirling cloud.

I draw strength
from these
fires of fury.

I dance
and I dance
and I dance.

I ground myself.

I give
the furious strength
back.

I go deeper.
I find
new strength within.

Not frustration.
Not fury.
But acceptance.

I smile.
I take my mask
off.

And I keep dancing.

Tokio desu, wearing a dress
Feel like a mess, making a mess
Wearing a dress, I was the best

I'm an ill omen,
I'm told.

It doesn't faze me.
I just put my mask on.

I become
a puzzle,
a labyrinth,
impossible to read,
not me anymore.

I'm an ill omen,
I'm told.

I wear my mask.
I'm fine.


I cry rivers inside.

You can't see how it breaks me.
You can't see how you hurt me.

I realised only now.

This isn't good.
This isn't alright.

Just because I can take it,
doesn't mean I should.

I bow out from this hell.

I will no longer apologise
for being me.

I'm an ill omen,
I'm told.  
                 Your loss.

My heart once drummed a steady tune
Thump...
                 thump...
                                 thump...
Like a contented wanderer it continued on,
s l o w
steady
repeating, repeating, repeating.

But like the wanderer, it sensed you
a disturbance in the equilibrium.
The drum solo arrived, a fast-paced melody

         p
     a     i
  e          n
l                g
                        racin­g
                                      beating
                 ­                                     singing.
                   ­                                                   And then...
                                                         ­                                   stopping.
Only to continue again,
just as quick, throbbing just the same.

But.

This time...

The wanderer sensed danger.

This time...

The adrenaline filled my veins
as you filled my gaze
and it was too late.