alive

patience is so often just
cowardice done up in a fancy suit
discretion is so often just
indecision painted up as valor
out of some stupid vanity
torturing others so often excused
by petty villains fainting insanity
judging others often turns out
a cover for one’s own sense of guilt
emotion not so much a tapestry
but a suffocating patchwork quilt
how do we get out alive?

we’re twisted around here
in these layers of pretend
we’re been weaving like mad
since when we were five
how do we get out alive?