On the fringe
Floating
Out there, somewhere
In the intricacies of the black lace nothingness.
Always staring in from out
Assumed denial is my proverbial wall
Built by my friends.
There is obligatory silence in the courtyard,
Awkward as a gosling,
Myself being its creator and sustainer.
My creation is monstrously
Dazzlingly
Controlling me with strings and wood;
A mariannette.
Inside its warm and comfy,
All gather round and tell stories
And laugh.
Fighting the cold outside is merely a droplet in the ocean;
Fighting this feeling will be harder:
This feeling that it is for
Naught. |