The Crisis of Normality

The colors in my head often dance as they wish,
They’ve been there through grief and through song.
I’ve trusted forever,
Only to find,
That forever is immortally wrong.
Forever rules and empire filled
With dust shattered beings and lies.
Forever has no security filled
What it sees
In my eyes.
It’s like the curtain is down, and you’re all wearing sweats,
And I’m still on my stage, dresses in formals.
So tell me, dear world, is this what it’s like?
Is this how it feels
Being normal?
Is this what it’s like?
Oh you poor creatures,
For I feel rather like I am dead.
I don’t think I could stand to be normal,
As grief rids the hues from my head.
I’d rather be blind,
Then to die in a mass,
Of quivering, sweltering black.
Oh you poor people, why can’t you see?
Being normal’s like a stab in the back.