Is it normal to question solidity?
Do the walls also slant
At a strangely obscurred,
To your point of view as well?
Do flowers smell
Not of the fresh morning chirps of happy birds
And eager young lovers awaiting a promised kiss,
But of a disappointingly original
Average breath of oxygen?
Lying in bed staring at material objects
which you've obtained throughout years of
tucking yourself away in a far corner of your mind
speaking quietly, not because you're afraid of being heard
but because you hope your miniscule voice might
ring out to the right people
who also seem to be gathered in the back
looking for something they don't remember losing,
a thought, an idea, a bare memory.
After years of doing things that others thought were brave
Yet continuously crawling into bed at night
With the bathroom light turned on
Because you're afraid to think of the past you've never shared.
In an age where it's trendy to claim insanity
The truly insane are understated
Asking themselves if they are indeed troubled
Or just another victim of emotional placebo.
If thinking outside the box requires one to take
I'd rather remain confined amongst my
Four slanted walls.