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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Illusion is Reality and reality is illusion. What if everything you once knew was all a lie. Every flower, every smile a simple spot in your vision. The lies swim around in your brain like dead fish. You accept it and never question it. Never question anything. The illusion of a soldier in the muddy, rat infested trenches seeps into view. He lays on his deathbed with his bloody hands on his face and he begins to laugh. His smile as big as the cheshire cat’s. Laughing becomes uncontrollable. Laughing because now he knows everything he once stood for was nothing but a mirage. He laughs because he knows his end is near but is it really? He knows God damned him the moment he took his first breath of this polluted air. Asleep, children lay in their beds and look like small angels sent from the gods, But really in this time and space they are monsters undercover. They are, We are todays Future and tomorrows death. Who knows what horrid plots a tiny brain holds. We will all be sent underground, hiding for the rest of our days. Hiding from what? You will ask yourself is this a dream? No my good sir this is a nightmare. Dreams mean something, this is your subconscious telling you to flee. Telling you the secrets of the world, this is what I am doing. Do you understand, do you want to understand? I don't, but I do. It's blinding isnt it? To look into another state of mind, see things for what it is. The hungry madness is knocking on our door, your door, their door. My door.. What’s a door? What is madness? What is sanity, is there such a thing? NO. It strikes like a cobra, quicker than your glazed eyes can follow. It will consume you whole and you will burn in it's stomach along with everything you thought you knew. Everyone you loved will be waiting there for you with open arms. Answer the door, madness is waiting for you. I’m waiting. Don’t make me knock again. Welcome to the devil’s circus my fellow follower. Everything you know is wrong, Every thought is someone else’s and that thought was planted into their mind by something else. Then it was yours. Now it’s someone else’s. It's not your thought, it's mine. See the curve in everything you once looked at with such certainty of what it was. Everything is warped and disfigured. Your mind bends to society like warm clay, It's strangling itself to mold to my words But it's bending over backwards for nothing because you can decipher these lines. It's sick and twisted. It's all an illusion, a scene of reality. The screams you hear are roaring cries for help, for guidance, for hope. Pleas for sanctuary, for security, for life itself. It's like music to my ears these screams, they are my lullaby to sleep. This is not a dream, this is not reality, it is not a illusion. It is nothing. This is the world, I'm handing it to you on this paper. It is nothing. It's sick and twisted.
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