Searching for immortal words among our daily dish,
A plethora of languid lines all screaming for one wish,
that which is a healing grace to mend our broken hearts,
form into a gleaming shield from all the broken parts.
A shield which heals the soul inside and keeps it locked away,
keeps it warm and safe inside, away from livid day,
the one good thing that turns us bad, as though that makes much sense,
the one good thing that keeps us wound and keeps our shoulders tense.
Perverse desire to make us hurt to know that we're alive;
Intense desire to make it right, we're learning to survive,
to strive to work for life, for love, for frank reality,
to live to love and live for life when life is only me.
For centered in my heart of hearts there lives a madness deep,
a dreadful festered paradigm living while I sleep,
talking only of it's hate, it maligns my heart in pain,
running in halls through my mind that I can't ascertain,
a million frozen figurines I created with my head;
quirky figures born of fear, embodiments of dread,
They come to life- late at night and make me wish I'm dead.