I grew weary of the world around me,
for it deceives me time and time again.
How do I know i'm not a prisoner,
out of desperation,
hallucinates he's at home,
cosy in bed, with
nice warm soup at the desk,
waiting for his master to devour it dead.
How do I know I'm not sleeping,
and this is a all a dream.
I could be a King,
under a spell casted by the devil,
fogging my vision from god.
I can't look back now,
and have to move forward,
discovering the truth,
a task too urgent to be discarded.
Braving through this nightmare,
kudos to those made it through.