Delusion or reality, how am I supposed to know, I can't tell you whether I'm awake or asleep, yet I know for I don't like the time you tell me, that I'm awake and well, I'm so convince that, I died a long time ago and these are only my final thoughts, each pulsing stroke of pain reminds me what little my life actually has, and how all that is around me is that which I've created,
fuck, take the pain away,
why the hell does it hurt,
all I do is live and you want,
want to make me think I should die,
Competing within me several facets only a few of whom you know, if one should ever succeed I ensure it won't be me, and I beg you to kill me that day, for there'd be nothing left inside...
fuck, I just don't understand,
who the hell doesn't want me here,
why do no pleasures comfort me,
my life may be a dream,
but it's one I'm happy to be having,
facts slip into useless obliveon, where my fantasy distorts, my memory doesn't fail me, yet my perception does, hallucinations have taunted me, premonitions have often given me hope, but their pressence makes me question whether any of it is real,
who became the second half of me,
the box I opened can never be closed,
but who made me open it,
am I becoming hwo I thought I'd want to be?
Don't try to help me, I don't even know if you are there.