Is normal anything but
An insecure masquerade of facades?
Our public persona we use to please
the souls that are longing to be themselves
but can’t because they
Don’t know how.

Is normal anything but
An insatiable craving we embody?
When disease stricken days won’t disappear,
Ignoring that sickness is the normal we’ve lived
all along, with only our own ignorance
protecting us from the truth.

Is normal anything but
Hope for better? A disappearance of feeling,
of emotion, of toxic thoughts that hinder our
Souls from seeing, feeling
the sunshine again.