Current mood:	anxious
Current music:	Weird Al - Amish Paradise

can't sleep, clowns will eat me
blood-stained and bruised
the wounds self-inflicted now
tearing apart all the scars
a skein of wounds and fear
all kept so tightly wrapped

a word to bring on the pain
a torrent of voices like knives
unravelling a perfect disguise
the architecture mad
a minefield, a void, and worlds

no meter, no rhyme to frame
the terror kept locked within
anxiety warring with sleep
the is no such thing as safety
who are you and what do you want?