The Shadow

Languish at the sound of laughter

Smile at the sight of misery

These mantras report the grand ol’ state

Stupor resembling your blank face

Exacerbates the grander atrocity of being

To admit that your distant sense of ‘us’ kept me close

I have lost and gained, but I have yet to start

Inner kaleidoscope gears in thousands of directions

I turn with their motions as I channel through false conviction

My ears may bleed from the constant askings

But I strive to continue, to search, to truly be without

These self-shackled chains of wallow, for I am the key

Cliche to uncommonly write of the common

Irony, creator of the lost, is dying, so should yes and no

Black, white, boy, girl, gay, straight into the plane of interpreted one

Sobs, shouts, laughter, moans that gave my veined body drive

The grand picture that isn’t displayed in Tarantino's world

Foregoing night, I’ll exclaim 'django' as I travel over the odds

Manic, depressed, lucid dreaming hippie

I laugh with Kierkegaard peering into the eyes of the shadow

Who took the sight from us, minus those whom have always seen

A catatonic light engulfed in the nothingness of varied mirrors

Reflecting colors of all spectrums and abstracts

Not knowing what is, the shine chooses to know only of white and black

Will it ever know the wonders of misinterpreted gray?

Divide into the oblivion that brought forth the candied, blue sky

Lights and darks are a mere dichotomy of the same beautiful, damned thing

Author's Note

A few inconsistencies in grammar, but they are intentional.