Monotonous is his existence,
Repetition for the sake of routine.
He crushes his heart into a cage,
And hides from the world he can't see.
He builds up fear to satisfy his paranoia,
and watches as his fragile hands bleed.
Stained fingers brush away the curtain,
So he can see another scene.
Below him, puppets stare,
As he effortlessly rips reality.
Without a thought he lets out,
The darkness that remains unseen.