In the Puddle that is my Mind

Quiet shadows, whispering flames, gray on black that beckons to me. However, this call I can refuse, choosing instead to quietly sink into a pattern of dark grass and vivid shades. Bright eyes never stay long, and soon enough you too will find some way to avoid me, apologizing and explaining. I don’t mind. It’s happened before. Golden letters look proud and daring, but I am more selective than that. Hungry mouths that will never be full, glass that will never be clear, a pattern that just doesn’t fit. These currently form a mood I would rather ignore, but this too will pass, in the end. What really bothers me is the idea that people are willing to judge. What rights have I? Must I try to catch my breath after I lose it? I would rather just watch it fly away, like a balloon that you just couldn’t hold on to. I am draining into the earth, because my wings are gone and I can’t get away. A ring that seemed so light before is still light, but my soul is heavy, my mind is heavy. When nothing makes sense anymore, I shed my skin, becoming new and beautiful, but this outside change isn’t enough. Flipping things over wasn’t really my style anyway, just a way of life. It’s warm outside, the sun shines on a meadow, but ice is creeping up the window on the inside. Repetitive patterns make no sense when branded into your skin, and ivy gloves aren’t all that exhilarating, anyway. Everyone stares at me, I can feel them judging me, but I hold my head high and proud and ignore them. I might not know my rights, but I sure do know theirs: they can stare all they want and not get washed away by a flood of emotion. Fake trees are sometimes even more beautiful than real ones, especially if musicians stay in their branches and pour out music to the dancing horses below. A diving board is so much more useful if you have a pool, by the way. And I don’t mean to intrude upon your privacy, but how are you? How have you been doing? Because I apparently can’t gather my thoughts together enough to make a coherent statement.