Must have a drive
An optimistic outlook, one who strives:
But much like fire
A creator can create, or effectively destroy
No matter the delusion
There will be those who
Die for it
Sacrifice for it
Hope for it
We all have delusions
Some are aware of them
Others never correct them
Above all else:
The ancient art of trickery
Ceases to end, bitter, like chicory
Radiant, cool eyes
With a single glance
Petrification, at an instant
The desire to bond, constant
Not possible, mutant
Believes in extremes
Changes on a whim
Understands the truth
Has neither time nor energy to change it
If only they communed
With one another
Ruination comes not from exterior forces
But interior quarrels
A man with a grey wardrobe
Found himself in a void
In front of his person, a mirror appeared
An image manifested, a child appeared
He knew what this was, so the truth appeared:
"When I was a child, I had time, but no resources."
His reflection appeared in the mirror
"As an adult, I have resources, but no time."
A photo of an old man in a living room appeared
"When I become an elder, I will have wisdom, but no one to teach."
A photo of an extensive graveyard appeared
"When I pass, I will have a legacy, but no one to remember it."
Dancing in the street
The unkempt, unruly man
His personal parade, of song and dance
Does his music
Sound like ours?
The man woke up
Looked toward his reflection
In his vision
Was a human, with a beetle's head
His wife of several weeks
Unleashed a gasp
"Why has this happened?"
The man replied
"I have become Insecta, my true self, a pest."