Restless. The journey to and from and around my own mind. It's surprising, I'm supervising, this life of mine. I sprint up the stairs of my solitary mind, the castle cascading down a mountainside. Around, around, through trenches, around towers, upward I climb. Stairs grow smaller, closer together, near the top. Rails gone, I look down and shudder for it never stops. It seems I could run forever in this endless masquerade. This masquerade, mask, mask, masquerade. At the top, now. The peak, the pinnacle. Looking down I can see it all, my mind, through my mind's eyes. Everything I've beaten, everything I've broken. Moments, Memories, Scars, Stories, Relics, Relationships, Sounds, Strings, Pictures, Places. Chaotic world, jumbled together, with some surprising and inspired chance forming my fortress. I can see it all. So real. I'm so, tired. Of this masquerade. Mask, mask, masquerade. I recall, all the moments. But I will not fall, as, I look down and through and over and about the past problems, relics of remembrance, sweet sorrows, gentle joys, hope and happiness, helps and highs and glimpses of Heaven. It's my story. My messy mask. As I look down and take in what surrounds, I change. Restlessness grows still. See my world, embrace the masks I've made. But, the masquerade no longer defines. It won't fill, me.