This came out of nowhere. I hope you like it. As always inspired by whom I would call my muse.
As humans living in solid labeled steel cocoons
We dance and sing and love to swoon
To the lover, mother, or another’s tune
So pitiful, so hurtful, we stay locked in our rooms
We love to hate others for misguided statements
And learn to hate those who love prose abated
And listen to songs from Le Mis
For you and I are one and the same
Struggling for love, job and someone with a brain
We two are communicating right now you see
Although this was written and seen for the first time only by me
Are we so blinded by rage of the muse in a cage that our senses are dull and cut dim
Elected by lovers who left for others their uncivil serpent called best?
But for those who still do like an uncertain loon, insanity brings her out of her nest.
I, unlike my muse, cannot live locked in a cage of my carefully crafted self deceit
Nor can I hide my hideous heretic heart for whom it beats
For it moves like the bell tolls for the last death in winter
Lying in the bed made of wooden tear stained pine
My hideous excommunicated heart may be torn in two per piece
Words leap out of it like wine for the steady drinker
Who follows the verse and begs to meet the one whose cursed hideous heretic heart, maligned still beats
For someone he or she may not be able to have
Someone he or she may not want to have
Someone for whom this hideous heretic heart should not beat.