Standard

Sometimes

I believe i am well

Then i get this twisted gut

And this crooked eye

And they both dig into me deep

Dredging and pulling

Till they find something to ridicule

Laughing

And pointing

Mocking

And they dance with joy

As i swing and miss

Then retreat

Down

Down

Under reality

Into the depths of my mind

Where there is shelter

And silence

But

Not oxygen.

Perpetual space.

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