Rubber Room Diary

Happy pills and fairy tales and suicidal maniacs–
I'm telling you man, it's quicksand out there;
I'm telling you man, it's quicksand in here.
What of a world whose wonders are the magic of Disney Corporation
And wishing on a dandelion just blows weeds' seeds into the air?
It makes it harder to say that I am a fighter and things will get brighter,
And the infinite darkness will soon be lighter.
And it makes me wonder if these are just lies we tell ourselves at night
To sleep and live another day when the sun rises on the shadowy world
Best kept behind a curtain of black.
A world of extremes in which the choice is silver spoon or no spoon,
Silky hair or cancer-ridden, chemo-driven baldness,
Happy or sad, good or bad, right or wrong–
None of the above is not an answer choice on this test,
And I'm sick of choosing from a word bank to describe how I feel
Instead of living limitless freedom of expression
To describe and inscribe the lives I have tried
On the minds of the closed-minded.
I never knew this was how it was or is how it is
Until I was thrust into this Hamlet-esque confusion
About the tricky little verb "to be". 

The End

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