Red ruby slippers are needed for heaven
tripping me up as I flee from the Seven
fall to the left with the pure and martyrs
caught in a tangle of high-pumps and garters
step to the right with the thieves and black-hearted
placing us back right before it all started
sinking in mud always deeper than needed
stuck in the static while concepts are seeded.
I'm caught in between two unlikely extremes
screaming with passion at my well-lit bad dreams
fighting for freedom with small hoping glances
considering running from all open chances
each tiny move made with passion and care
all held together by hope and by prayer
a thin silver thread connects passion with pain
hope doesn't count without opening a vein.
Needed: a reason to make my own mark
wanted: a passion to shatter the dark
limbo can't count towards substance or meaning
stuck to a page while she moves around, cleaning
mess is subjective like thoughts and believing
not 'till it's gone will you catch my heart grieving
my mind craves an explosion like heroes crave war
but stuck in the middle, I can't see the floor.
-The choices were never mine to make.