The world seems awfully distorted to me,
Like a beveled-edge painting, hung behind a black curtain,
The distance of the horizon feels almost drawn on,
And if I tried hard enough,
I could just about erase it,
Opening up a universe of possibilities,
Exceeding the sky,
Floating between constellation to constellation,
Until I reach a door,
Small enough to fit a mouse,
Your door,
Built mainly to keep me out,
To keep me from relapsing back to reality,
To keep me away,
Far away.
These lucid thoughts I have translate into clouds,
That I could just blow away,
With a breath,
But when I look into the water,
There is tape over my lips,
Forcing these clouds to pile,
Leaving my mind overcast, and solid
But I know,
Somewhere up there,
The exit route of this maze,
Is there,
Waiting
Waiting
Waiting.
But for now,
I can find myself with the mad hatter,
Conversing with the rabbit,
Burning away with the caterpillar,
Painting roses red,
Scared to miss one, incase they get sick of me,
Incase they leave,
Forcing me back through this damnation.
And maybe one day I can tap away the clouds,
Like bubbles at the top of soda cans,
Effortless and easy,
Mocking me,
As I'm tied to reality like chains around my imagination.
