Midnight Depression Collection Pt. III

The Novelties of Perspective


I’ve been wearing my sheep’s clothing
For so long now, I’ve forgotten what
Lies beneath

Let sleeping dogs lie,
Let sheep-like people hide,
Lest ye discover that they be wolves.

Vision blurry
A lack of focus
Every light has a halo
The lines before us
No longer connect
Shapes without structure,
Structure without meaning.

I don’t recognize what I see
And I don’t know what lies unseen
The snug fit of meeting someone
Else’s mold – Tailored to the
Docile nature of common complacencies.

In the indistinct
Surely the truth lies in the
Eye of the beholder,
Beholden to the expectations.
Of peers similarly attired
In falsehoods
Woven in weary wool.

My sheep’s clothes
No longer feel
Like a disguise –
They hug like a second skin.
I don’t know where they begin
Or where I end?

Maybe this dog
Has been asleep so long,
I forgot exactly what kind of canine
I could’ve been.
There’s no big bad Wolf.
Not in these woods.
Not in these wools.
Domesticity is finding yourself
In your nature.
When your shape loses meaning
And the structures meant to cage you
Make you feel safe.

Every light has a halo.
Except the light in our eyes.
It was the spotlight
That first persuaded me to
Don the garb of the mediocre,
To better suit your ideals.

I know that now
In a way I never did


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