A fissure forms, unseen, unheard,
Reality bends, reshaped, absurd.
A shadow whispers, its voice unknown,
I walk a path I do not own.
The walls breathes life, the floor turns thin,
A labyrinth of chaos erupted within.
Eyes from each corners, they pierce,
they stare with longing awareness,
Are they real, or just my mind laid bare?
Colors scream to me in agony
they twist, they bleed,
Truth dissolves to what I need.
Voices merged together, then split apart,
A shattered reflection reflects my heart.
Time walks backwards then stops,
then starts again in a clockwork circle ,
A fragile web of fractured parts awaiting to crumble .
I reach for anchors but they remove my grip,
Each grasp returns me to the same.
Yet through the tempest, faint and small,
A voice persists beyond it all.
It whispers softly, though hard to hear,
"You are still here, despite the fear."
The storm subsides, though scars remain,
A fragile peace reclaimed from pain.
Through psychosis, the mind may stray,
But even in pure darkness
light finds itself a pathway
