The Sighs of A Cheshire

I would have you hear my voice,
I would not have you pity that I am mute.
I want you to know my story,
please still listen while I struggle to communicate.
I would have you share your past,
and not turn away from my deafness.
I would have you know my mind,
please don't try to fix my insanity.
I would have you show your feelings,
and not have you be offended by mine.
Come near, look behind my smile.
Why do you let me rave,
only to walk away?
Oh but such are humans,
paradoxical in nature.
We seek likeness, not difference.
We desire continuity,
but forget our own missteps.
We judge, misguide, struggle.
We hide, we lie, we lash out.
Masquerade.
Moving in the dance.
I tire of it.
I am weary of wearing a mask.
But a portion of myself is dark indeed.
An operatic Phantom sings a lullaby.
Not all of me is darkness,
the spark of faith that keeps me alight, alive, remains.
But time and again my mind has betrayed me.
The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.
I am so weak.
Frail, and a fool.
Quite mad, in need of assurance, support.
I cannot walk this path alone.
But I am frightened. So frightened.
I have been hurt before, by those I trusted deeply.
I shared my mind, showed my madness,
and they turned from me,
told me they never cared to begin with.
I think I might be better off in Wonderland.
But that is not where I am meant to be.
I cannot stay for long in this insanity.
I've been here far too long.
But I see no end, just more tunnel.
Someone pull me from the Matrix,
show me how to live without a spoon.
No time-turner could save me from myself,
no magic spell could free me from my own cage.
Do you not see it?
The pain behind my smile?
The scars under the paint?
Do you not hear it?
The screams behind my laughter?
The sobs beneath the flirting?
Music box, wound too tight.
Porcelain doll, with a brain of tin.
I've been shattered so many times.
You can see where I've been put back together.
And I'm still wrong.
But still they come to dance.
So I dress myself in pretty paint and lace.
I play the part.
Masquerade.
The fact that anybody would choose me when I show myself
is beyond my grasp.
So I don't let them see.
Until it's too late.
And then I shatter once more.
One alone has picked up my pieces.
One alone has believed in the Mad Hatter's daughter.
One alone took my hand.
But because I cannot see Him,
cannot feel Him,
sometimes I doubt,
and wonder if I'm just simply crazy.
That what comes to me is all in my head,
and there are no visions from Him,
directions from Him,
empathy towards His children.
Or is it because I am insane that I can have these things?
I am not sure.
But still the spark of faith remains.
He kept me alive when I had nothing left.
So be it insanity, or be it a God who loves me,
I will cling to hope.
I hold onto the Lord,
even when I feel invisible,
even when I wander away,
even when I am betrayed.
The wisdom of God seems foolish to Mankind.
But I am a fool indeed.
God is my anchor.
Despite whatever you make think or feel about me,
I know that it is my madness that keeps me needing God before all else.