Hello again everyone, and welcome back to day 2 of this glorious month of poetry! We hope you enjoyed yesterday’s sacrifice, and without further delay, we are going to jump right into the next poem, as it is already that time of night again:

Blink. Blink. Blink.

A rave is taking place in front of my eyes,

as tiny little lights refuse to stop pelting me in the face,

and decide that it is necessary for me to see the world in black light.

I try to demur but it is of no use,

because the sky festivities have encircled me with no intention

of exit.

Somehow, magically the lights transform into daggers,

slicing away not only my visibility, but

determining that I am no longer worthy of

viewing the icy wonderland around me.

Club goers 10 ten times my size roll by

effortlessly,

joyfully swiping away the daggers,

as if they are persistent gnats,

gnawing away at the fruit of their happiness.

I kick up and down, steps going in a circle until

the shiny malicious blades no longer have a use for me,

and decide it best that I can leave before the show is through.

I’m quite annoyed at the unwelcome ambiance in which I spent

what felt like forever battling;

However,

so many other trapped club goers,

never get to leave and escape the frigid daggers.

Some club goers,

have to endure such frigidly cold,

fiery hot nights,

and NEVER get to go to the after party,

called Home.