I feel lost inside my own skin, like a bird caged in disgrace and sickness. I am so sick and tired of being sick and tired of being sick and tired of it all – sick to death and beyond.
My heart revolts against the knives cutting through it, as they lie to my face, spitting and vomiting all over me, holding me down in order to force me to watch my dreams being shattered time and again. And as I scream in pain while they rip open the stitches across my wounds, I realize that each monster is a once beloved from either the distant or the near past, now coming to haunt me for the rest of my life. Thus is the price I pay for my trust, and still do I cling to the faces of the present and future, unwilling to see through the masks and look upon what lies beyond, refusing because unable to to see them for what they really are: merciless monsters and never-ending nightmares in disguise.