I think the bottle has become uncorked.
I think I could have stopped it,
but I know it wouldn't have worked.
This slew of madness is about to unfold.
I wonder if I can die young
before I grow old.
The darkness compounds frustration.
The hate on which I feed
will breed creation.

A new personality.
A new vibe.
A new rationality.
A new tribe.

I will emerge from this cocoon
better and more beautiful than I once was.
Fly away,
fly away from here.