In a mote of dust.. I am twenty-four years young, with the heart of a poet. I am fascinated by the arts, and perplexed by the universe. 19 followers / 239 words
Oh, what a sterile pain this is. Isolated in a desolate white room somewhere deep within the darkest void of my soul. All hope was lost long ago, yet here I sit, in this barren pit, waiting for my time. All we have is time.
Pollution. In this air I breathe, there is no dilution, from the carcinogens you emit. The smog steadily spews from your sin blackened lips. Manufacturing twisted lies in your factory mind. No one left but the plagued. There are no true answers left to find. Not for you. Not for any of those ****** with a third eye blind.
The brain doctors cannot fix her. Don't you tell me that they can. I've eaten every antidote, and shut her up with medicine. I have done just as they taught me. I carved out every imperfection, every sin.
I dissected her identity. I cut her mind up until there was nothing left.
We are just pawns in an over sized game of chess. We shall be played repeatedly, but I digress. For even a small man must play his part. In this land of War and Art.
Somewhere. (Somewhere deep inside of this heart of mine.) There is something sinister. (There is a darkness.) Evil. (Hiding.) Eating someone alive. (Leeching the life from my veins.) Growing. (I'm fading.) Spreading. (No.) You must learn to coexist. (No...) You cannot hide from it. (It can't be.) It dwells within us all, the darkness. (The truth.) The truth is in us all.