By TheMadPoetGold

﹉

At the strike of twelve o'clock

Not a minute later

Not a minute 'fore,

(Tik tik tik tok)

May you shed your mask

Find a breath of fresh air

On the cusp of your grasp

Is a blood red love to be shared;

Bound through the night,

It hurts but hurry up!

Don't be too slow, too fast,

Or too bland, too brash;

But don't rush––

The gates will welcome you anyway!

Doused in mud, soaked in bleach

Whatever society expects you to be

Can be burnt and praised, anyway!

There are a field of eyes

––That will always watch

––You can't forget that, either––

You should keep your doors locked.

For your friend, a trend, your old enemy

Expects objective, unattainable, fried crisp beauty;

A delicious melody

Pulling you apart,

A string on your leg, a string on your arm!

This is life, it'll cut you down

Before you can breathe, before you can drown!

Long before you see the sun!

Long before you find the gun!

No, I don't have a gun,

Neither am I free––

So I gather at night

Beyond a clearing of moonlit trees

(Smiling confusion is the new malady)

For the internet's sham

I must travel far

So I know who I am,

And we come as we are

Come as you are 

...my friend.