In the storefronts that display our lives
we control what others may view,
and arrange eclectic dioramas
that are not necessarily true.
Behind the brightness and glitter
many dark storerooms may hide,
full of sadness, madness, evil, and fear:
where delusion and paranoia now bide.
In one gloomy room a lonely soul keens,
and sees no joy, nor sunny tomorrow;
surrounded by shadows dark and bleak,
weighed down by constant sorrow.
In a cave-like room, a madman sits,
grinning as he polishes his gun.
The strength of it courses through him,
as his gauntlet of madness is run.
Religious icons bedeck a frugal small cell,
where scourges hang bleak on the wall.
The inhabitant wails, saying meaningless words:
in vain he awaits his god’s call.
A bright happy room hosts a person
who promises friendship forever,
while spouting slander behind your back,
and smirking and thinking they’re clever.
In the storefronts that reflect our lives,
we display what others may dream,
but when window-shopping, be careful:
things are never quite what they seem.
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