Respectability

bright morning sky,

what do you hold in store?

is it another day

that calls me here,

or only a roll

of the celestial dice,

is there really a choice,

or simply an option,

is it drama

or is it comedy,

am I really that different,

does it matter at all,

should I laugh

or should I  cry;

perhaps

a little of both;

you wear respectability

like a bullet proof vest,

a shield between the world outside

and the darkness within,

necessary,

but unwanted,

donning it

for convenience sake,

removing it when

you think it is safe,

hiding all you so desperately

cry out to reveal;

the passion

you used to feel,

the voice that cuts

like a fine razor’s steel

calling from far away fields

and midnight rendezvous;

alone;

where only a few go,

and only a few know.

.

.