King Of The Castle

Sometimes, I'm so down on humans;
I guess because I don't like me;
There's just too much inside here,
After years of collecting debris.
I've nowhere to show my emotions,
So, poems are my release
For all the pent-up frustration;
But, it brings me no peace.
My mind paces, like a caged animal;
While, outside, I strive to appear sane.
My mind races, like enraged animals,
And the inside's no longer a brain;
A dust devil whirls inside me;
There's vaccuums and gales at war;
They pound at each other, endlessly,
Like battering rams on a door.
I know fear, when the two coincide;
I completely lose composure;
I convince myself to shun humanness
For fear of inner exposure.
The pressure cascades and crescendoes
In unpredictable rhythm;
At times, I'm compelled to withdraw in my shell
And abandon my altruism.
Other times of deceptive calm,
I feel only the need to soothe;
I seek out the ailing and aching,
And my railing becomes soft-toothed.
It's hard to make sense of reality,
So, I might live in my own little world:
One king, one castle, with an iron door;
And my banner is never unfurled.

© MadPoetnExile

I've unlocked this door for you, though.

If you browsed in from GeoCities, just close this window to return.

This background is provided courtesy of Misery in Motion