The thought of it horrifies me, Even more so than what death entails, It forces me to sporadically awaken.
I visualize myself taken away to a cold grotto, Where I'm violated by strangers And alienated, rather than uplifted, For an unknown duration of time
I knew what might happen, The consuming fervor, My behavior will not be understood
Haven't I alienated myself all along? Was it not I who voluntarily auditioned For the infamous role of the outcast As well as the acclaimed role of the golden child? The critics may write their reviews of my performances
My petite hands peruse Through the drawer's treasure, The prescription pill bottle is Considered as a future reference.