Everything is still
Calm, perfect
You are so right
But it’s all gone so wrong
Perfection disturbed
Like ripples in a pond
The waves grow bigger
Like the crevasse between us
How can happiness be dangled and
Used to taunt the madman in the mirror
Whose screams wail through my consciousness
And whose desperation is echoed in
The hearts of those who have none.
Then writers are cruel people
Who taunt and promise love
To torture young hearts
And squeeze tears from their eyes
When all happy endings
Happen heights above
