Follow the thought as it hops away,
into the deep dark hole.
Let curiosity lead a spring to your step,
to chase after the unknown.
Endlessly, endlessly let yourself fall,
into the vivid black.
Either choose to change or stay mundane,
for there is no turning back.
Run, run, into the fields,
where ideas bud in the plain.
They sprout and grow and wither.
Better pluck a few good ones to save.
Wander until you know where to go,
for Anywhere will never do.
Morph into the form that you wish to be.
Do not hide in your cocoon.
Be deaf towards scarring words of scorn.
Allow no one to take your head.
The day the dreams you have become not your own,
shall be the day your Self is dead.
Remember that thought you followed,
away from the world of bitter hate,
and stumbled towards the world where people learn to love
themselves before it was too late.
Fall into the madness.
Question not where it leads.
Follow no path set before you,
or you'll never be set free.
Forge your way of Madness.
Do not be afraid, my dear.
Have no fear, no one will judge you,
for we are all mad here.
Zoe A Blackmon
124th Weekly Poetry Contest