Other people claim you’re strange
The way you write you must be deranged
No one believes when nothing is wrong
I just love the sick and the twisted with no cause
My mind deafens me with stories to tell
All about people getting unnervingly close to hell
Why read or think about happy endings
What I think about is closer to our self being
I consider myself a rational absurdist
I find no point in being a realist
The world is too real anyways
Why not find a moment of escape
Try to believe in something fake
Let your dreams take you somewhere
Or in my case your nightmares
I feel a connection to the creatures of the night
They’re just people who excepted it’s okay to not be alright
Why do we need company – why do we need sound
Nothing is wrong with isolation and having nothing aloud
All I hope
Is in reading this you find hope
Knowing you’re not as strange
As you felt you were
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