isms

midnight's storm is stirred
I grieve in the dark where no one can hear
I don't wish anyone to see me cry
tears streaking down my face from a broken mind

an infidel of faith
I feel guilt for being as such
it hurts this burden
but I carry it bravely

I search my soul for answers
I feel if I dig deep enough they will reveal themselves
to no avail
I am left in my own time hell

the answers to my dilemma don't come
grievous error I have to bear the things I've done
I hate who I am sometimes
conflicted feelings rise

I seek to self soothe
it helps for awhile
then back to the depths
my mind caught in the madness

insulting my thoughts with it's wickedness
I wonder though is it evil?
to toy with feelings of the otherworldly
a specter of hope I am different

an oddity of awkward need
I crave the macabre
I am a wraith riding on the aether
there is no other like me
of this, I'm sure of

rebellious spirit in line with the strange
a weirdling of ideology
with my own sort of isms
psychology doesn't have a category
though they tell me I'm crazy

they don't hear from heaven or hell
but I can tell you there are other realms as well
take a journey, a trip through different dimensions
and get a grip on reality

there are things in this world
you can easily explain away