Of a Madman in My Poetry Slams

Vision blurring, words slurring, these are the words of a madman
Everyone stands around, lips shut and walls about
Even in a room of plastic people, there’s no love in this steeple
Seven billion people serve, to increase the statistics of finding true love
Don your mask, afraid to touch
Don’t let your soul slip out past your lips
Keep your secrets, forfeit your bets

This one is going into a
Cannibalistic overtime