Motion and wind fail to exist
and I am left standing on my own.
The air is still, the ground isn't there.
This world has yet to be created,
there isn't a mark, or a voice to speak of.
It is all my own...
My world or so you might call it,
is everything I could ever want and yet
nothing at all.
I'm stuck here because reality is too cruel.
Everything is as I want it and only because
I say so...
Sometimes there is blood dripping,
sometimes there is nothing,
sometime there are voices.
It is prison...
My insanity.
Some days I want to leave, but most
I want to stay.
He is always here, but there he is always gone.
Nothing is more perfect than the clay by which I mold,
nothing is more normal than the sights I behold.
If I want to watch a murder, I can let play.
If I want to save the world I can let stay.
Everything can repeat, most can even stop when I want.
But his face never goes, never stops dancing through my mind.
His voice never stops playing in the background,
It is killing me slowly but for that I am grateful.
My delusion I will never leave you...
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