Made: Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Time: 8:54p.m

--

Life isn't what we make of it

We're all puppets tied to strings

Dangling perilously above our sharp-staked

Doom

Wondering "Is this all there is?

Have I reached the end?

But I'm so young…"

We spend our entire lives

Building up ties

Relationships

Friendships

Only to push them all out again

With walls built up to hide your

True emotions

The voices in your head tell you

That you're a failure

You always will be a failure

You'll never amount to anything

And even though you break

The glass

Into a million, zillion pieces

You can still make out the reflection

Of the monster

The creature

The complete stranger

That you've finally become

Though you'll deny it

Because you haven't reached insanity yet

Then as you dangle there

Eyes closing in fear of the future

Long ago gouged out from the impending

Insanity

You realize this life as you know it

Was never what you thought at all

You were always wrong

And you always will be

And as you spiral downwards into

A macrocosm of unstable walls

Made of mirrors

Cracked and bloody from something you'll

Never figure out the identity of

You start to wonder, "Just who is this puppet master?

This sad-looking stranger in the mirror?"

Then, finally, insanity slowly seeps into the

Broken, bloody walls of your mind

And that confused frown upturns to a

Sadistic, psychopathic smirk

The blood around you suddenly tastes so good

And you do all you can

To get just one more taste

And that sad stranger in the mirror

You finally realize

Is you