I am the cold silver light in the darkness.
The rattling madness polluting sanity.
I am both, I am everything.
But mainly I am burdened with truth.
That, is why I am so Afraid of living
Why I am so afraid of Not living
Why I am not afraid to die.
I am the lead tainted paint in a bottle, stirring, absorbing the artist's pain.
In madness I am used to depict a reality ideal.
With every brush stroke, every color, I am killing him, he is using me to **** him,
as he paints murals for the masses to alleviate their suffering.
He suffers from truth.
He is not afraid to die.
I am a chameleon blending in with the rest of you,
Fools, drunk off of false hope and fairy tales
I am the paint, and the painting
I am the artist,
And I am not afraid to die.
First poem of the year, of my decade, of this new chapter.