What goes on in the underground?
Beyond and beneath the warm,
Serene fields of neutral conversation?
Inside the hollow caverns, down
In the dark tunnels where
Rivers of gossip trickle and slide.
The dim place where truth's light
Sputters and dies
Like a candle in the wind.
The echoing pit where people's
Eyes are like a falcon's sharp talons.
A place of despair and desolation,
Where the exiled go.
A dwelling of cracked and warped glass,
Where decorated, leering masks,
Sneer mockingly and from the walls.
The basement of the soul of an
Ostracized outsider, whose only crime
Was to have the courage to break the mold.