There are creatures


Under our skin

Waiting for moments

Of weakness

That give them a way out

They look for cracks 

Where insecurities lie

Begin scratching at the edges

As the magma starts to rise

They whisper in our dreams 

At night

About all the ways 

We are too small

In a great big world

We start to believe

The volcanic ash

Is all our own fault

Maybe it is

See how it starts

Doubt and trepidation 

As the crowd begins to thin

The audience is slim

But the show is on every channel 

In our mind

As the grand finale 

Makes its mark

The rocks begin to fly

The death toll will rise

And the self reflection 

Will become escapism

Self loathing

And suicide

Sometimes the sky opens back up

Just in time

Let’s us see inside

Closes the mouth of hell

Shuns the people 

Who said we were just weak

A life lived alone

Is still a life

A tree that falls in the woods

Is still on the ground

Fingers spark at the possibility of connection 

As faces look for recognition

Of a giant farce in our way of life

We should not be so insensitive in our own discovery

That even wise men struggle to love themselves

If one person 

Could love 

Just one person

How many volcanoes would extinguish themselves


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