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