Insanity looms inside the looking glass. It's like a madness stuck on repeat, and I'm lost in the progression! I wonder, what's under the scar tissue? A rollercoaster I've rode too many times. Can I stomach one more go? Today, the black birds lied to me again, mocking me as the wind waged war with my face. All I look foward to is cancer. The cold taste of the grim reaper's porcelin lips. All this talk of the end; are we really pushed to oblivion? His hand is so close, at times I can see his thumbnail. The foot may bring luck, but beware of the hole! is this the dwelling of misfortune? The numbers now haunt me. The worst feeling from the most perfect melody. She gave me the perfect present, with a note that read, "It's yours, at my convience!" The letters drained into a pool of rubies. So close to completion of this creature I'm becoming. How will I handle the pain of burning wings? Smearing a grain of salt into the wound will act as my pain killer. She trembles from the quake, unaware of the richtorscale. TBC...
