this explains why you have friends.
the fact you exist is an outlandish fairy tale.
you invent new disgusts,
and any opposition to your self proclaimed truth
when does ideal take shape?
when are you satisfied,
and who is this ficticious character standing in your way?
are you going to live the rest of your days in the shadow of your imagination?
you have exchanged blood, in a pact,
with crushed expectations.
you have become romantically entwined with self pity.
wake up o sleeper and realize that the one who slashed your hopes is
none other than the sickle in your left hand"
- Bernard L Everett