I have constructed this illusion,
That my life is a theatre orchestrated by a man.
A man so evil that all the monsters of the earth can't help but dance to his tunes.
I find myself thinking, of a thought I can't despair.
What if this man decides that the theatre no longer forfills his need for entertainment?
What would happen to me?
To every thing I've ever know?
This illusion I've constructed,
Of choirs humming a significant song....
This illusion so fragile,
Not even the pillars of my heart could keep the walls of the auditorium up.
Have I just embodied a character engulfed with love?
Have I been blindsided by this evil man?
Dictating my every movement, every ****** expression?
Is it really worth living a life under constant burning light?
So exposed to the audience whom are in awe.
In awe to the pain inflicted by this man.
This man who promised me stardom but instead gave me an empty role.
A role to blend in, to be washed out by the white light shining from above. This illusion...
So distant I almost feel at home.