Are you scared,
They'll leave you for dead,
While knowing you breathe?

Are you afraid,
Of what you made in your mind
Of all the things you need?

Are you impressed,
With the way it cloaked
With the way it warped?

Are you satisfied,
With what you thought
With what you left?

Will they leave?
Of course they will.
Will they sing?
Will they feast upon your death?
Will they laugh at your demise?
Will they?
They won't.
But somewhere-
In your heart,
They already are.