Twist the Dying Lovely

Twist                             the                              dying                                     lovely

                with                              iron                                     arms 

Rosy lips with thorns make the dying depressor golden. Immerse yourself in sadness and forbidden thought. Dear Someone, you are No One. A timid thought spoken in the form of a whisper from a wicked tongue infects you with all of its gory aspects. They taunt you with words, but words are golden. Golden gates, locks, and keys; hide me away from thee. Taunt and torment the one who does not understand, for she is not the only one who dances in the dark. Escapism is an invisible form of art. Let yourself fall from the balcony that is supported by the structured backbone of society's utmost inner workings. There is no such thing as special, there is only what can be expressed and what is silenced by those who wander by instead of wondering what is inside. Perfect the space in-between the lines even though they cannot be seen by the ordinary. The dismal and the dull rule this world of gap spaced boredom. I would rather fall than stand.