Inverse Dissonance
Just a little poem to get some stuff off my chest.
These are things that happen to us.
When we cannot be ourselves,
Then what do we really have left?
We are trapped by the burning stigmas of right and wrong.
This line in the sand, can we erase it completely?
As though it never existed, and start our lives over.
Even when we cry out against the churning crowds,
The lines that mark our bounds,
Cannot be washed away.
My lone voice whispers to myself,
Of times of carefree trials.
Childhood was my only crime,
And I cringe against the memories.
We bend and break and repair,
To the rythym of inverse dissonance.