I was empty when I started
Tried to find a remedy
Really I was pretentiously
Fighting my inner artist.

Heartless...
Is that really what they think of me?
I was on the brink of the
Fate of many martyrs.

        And for starters...
        I had no clue what to do.
        I entrapped myself in seclusion.
        Time alone
        To reformulated,
        To re-braid my DNA,
        My motives.
        I tried to wriggle to the light.
        I jabbed, thrusted, fought.
        Just to get a glimpse of myself.
        The new me.
        Remedy.
        But I couldn't.
        I was stuck in my mind.

And I was going crazy
No way to get away from the
Torment that was containing me.

        So I wrote...
        I became the artist
        That I always wanted to be.
        I injected my pain infused art,
        Meticulously,
        On the sandpaper canvas
        That was my life.

Holding me deep in vacancy.

        That, was my nightmare.

And then I broke out.
I simply... woke up.

        So I learned how to dream.