Inside of me lies a solar system drifting lazily
Like a cloud and disguising my internal chaos.
Monsters and demons roam the nations,
prowling for my subconscious and
screaming their torment to the wind.
They are like shadows; they cringe
from the light like sanguine vampires.

Inside of me lies a run-down prison
where I confine myself, resigned
to wait as patiently as a statue.
My heart and limbs are heavy like stone.
my thoughts slow as a turtle
and twice as steady
as an ancient oak tree.

I seem to be a happy bubble,
floating in nonchalance but
really I am the sharp and
twisted glass pieces that pop it.
I seem to be a carefree chameleon,
content to change myself and adapt for survival,
but really I am a permanent stain.

I seem to be a fortress, tall
and proud. But really I am an ecosystem
barely clinging to my fragile balance that
pollution has threatened repeatedly.
I seem to be a prowling wolf,
strong and alert. But really I
am the rabbit it preys upon.