Why are the beasts caged, while monsters run the world? Every one of them more monstrous than the last, and yet I’m branded as the freak. Unable to express myself, unable to be myself, all that is and ever will be me remains behind closed doors. Real danger walks the streets day and night, it looks it’s self in the eye, and still feels no remorse, no guilt for all its crimes. Deep inside pain cries out to lash out, but nothing virtuous ever has come from it. Yet every time they lash out, I’m the one who suffers. Being pushed aside, being filled with anger, rage. Followed by the crushing depression which surrounds me, just like the steely thick bars of the metaphorical cage they’ve locked me in. But why can’t I get out? It’s just a metaphor, isn’t it? My attempts to reach out through the narrow bars have been rejected, reflected in my direction with a fist, instead of an open hand. Even sheep follow a socially acceptable order in this world of chaos, while I’m apparently the putrid, vile wolf, that’s the beast who chooses to feast. If they’d let me loose to capture me they’d need more than a noose, becoming the beast I truly hideaway beneath this quilt of skin. Letting the doors break off their hinges and rip through the poor fragile structure which embodies me. No longer being locked away, but set free.
No one wants to be locked up forever. Stuck on one side of the glass, surrounded by the monsters that control your fate. I should be free to make my own decisions and not have monstrous critics putting me down and standing in my way. Its time I expressed myself fully, let my feelings flood out and wash my inner demons away into the darkness, away from the surface of my mind. Put off the change until a time when it’s required. I may be troubled but I’m still together enough to understand what’s right and what’s wrong, enough so to know what this world is crying out for is a rebellion.
Fri Feb 17, 2012 2:49 pm
