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Poem
caught in the crossfire, of well-hidden snipers
that aim through the lens, of venomous vipers
paralysed by poison, blinded by spies
unarmed victims, enemies in disguise
shadows that taunt us, ghosts we let haunt us
vanish in the light, of our sudden surprise,
we admit what we know, must now be lies
worn down with the truth, now right in front of our eyes
the war is revealed, our pain is explained
orders to an army, we ruthlessley trained
kamikaze pilots, who only care about fame
now facing checkmate, as mere pawns of the game

the fight doesnt stop, this war never ends
for now we can have fun, like siblings who pretend.
eventually lost in the torment, the passionate over pour
drowned by deja vu, which we blissfully ignore
yes we have been here before, although we're unsure
because once again, we snuck onto stage
through the carefully hidden trapdoor
we leap in head first you see, liberated from our fears
refusing to believe, that it'll all end in tears

thats the twist we leave ourselves, in this masterplan we plot
we can choose to be the villain, even though its what were not
in our imagination, we run, till all is forgot
we cant police what we do, when were not sure who were not
better to be unknown, than an all knowing he or she
who remains a prisoner of their knowing, trying so hard to be free..
when we know little, we can explore
and discover drama, through adventure
goonies slowly turn into pirates
as the grown up thirst finds its quencher

power hungry zombies, with robotic centres
possessed and corrupt, mad frankeninventors
getting thrills from the world, dreamt up in our dementia
evil sexy vibes we crave, that reek of translvania
vamping about, with our fangs on show
tanned by the nigh,t and the moons ghostly glow
in the mirror were vacant, trrying so hard to see
when were almost invisible, from our transparency
and as the blood guts and gore, seep out our pores
we turn to dust in disgust, in the horror we fall
were we once felt so big, we now feel so small
the aftermath of the monster, the green eyed know it all

what's left is the show, the film that felt so real
leaving scars were we weep, after an almighty squeal
we can repeat the story, and bore ourselves to blame
or begin a new tale, with a new squire, spellbound by a dame
or be wicked and wild, that they all try to tame
the riddler with a scarred face, and a question mark for a name
you can create every beautiful, symmetrical friend
from the flower of life, and the petals you spend
buzz like a bee, whose dream was to fly
despite being the one, who ate all the pies
be so happy you clap, then forget all that we know
a new playground to explore, and eventually outgrow.
puzzled how you got there, when all you felt was bliss
a heckle to ground you, and be the ultimate gift

in the confusion, the hoo har,
the final what's wrong with me
we discover what was lost...the art of the comedy
the innocent kids find, how you enjoy it all the same
this storm aquires a song, to which we dance to in the rain
leaving us in a heap, wet behind the ears of shame
baptised by mother nature, and the beauty in which we became
in fits of laughter you'll cryk tears signal the end
when we have the chancek to be someone else or not
and do it all over again.
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