Wasting away in a wasteland of turmoil
Between a ceaseless rage that threatens to boil
Over and burn away and rampage against everything in sight,
And a passion unyielding that refuses to budge in the face of might.

And they’re killing me.
I don’t know what decisions and thoughts are right or wrong anymore.
Blinded, I cannot see,
And these incisions and plots on my body don’t deliver the answers I’m looking for.

I’m dying, rotting from within, consumed by the demons that whisper so sweetly in my cranium.

A walking corpse that refuses to fall into peaceful slumber by a desire to rise higher than Elysium.

Colliding emotions jar my focus, and I’m not sure whether it’s greed or ambition,
Whether it’s right or wrong,
All I know is that eventually,
Either I will emerge victorious,
Or remain a shallow corpse.

When I was a kid, I built a city where no one knew pity.
When I was a kid, I was a monster, towering above the towers. My make believe city couldn’t withstand my make believe powers.
When I was a man, I built a home where nobody had to feel alone.
When I was a man, I was a monster, devouring those I loved most. Now that they’re gone, I’m haunted by the memories of their ghosts.
When I was a child, I was obtuse.
When I was a man, I had no excuse.
Creation, just to destroy.
Innocence is evil’s greatest ploy.

Sweat, tears, and blood,
flow no different when dragged through mud.
A collection of history against the world,
portraits of life as the colors swirl.
But the mud remains brown.

Truly, a masterpiece.