Joy

The world is

Black,

A bleak balance beam, and I am blind.

The world is

Silent,

A plunging sense of destruction that makes one want to tear themselves apart.

The world is

Empty,

A place where only ghosts find their way home.

Fear, fear, fear.

I want

White,

A scene of purity where the lamb bows its head.

I want

Music,

A bewitching river that rushes down my veins in sheer fortissimo.

I want

Existence,

A fetching flame that rises to conflate two souls into a single sun.

Joy, joy, joy.

The world is

Fear.

I am quite woebegone in a world that does not bleed out the hues of life.

I am quite hollow in a world that keeps its mellifluous words in its throat.

I am quite inhuman in a world that only demons crawl on.

I want

Joy.

I feel masked in a night sky with no moon in a world where I become blind.

I feel dissonance screaming in my brain in a world where I choke on the silence.

I feel nakedness in the fabrics of winter in a world where I become demonic.

I need

Joy.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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