Walking blinding through each day, being a copy of others. No individuality, no personality just apathy.
Am i a robot? Manufactured and false. Do my feelings stem from someone genuine or are they forged by a twisted mind?
Am i real? Stepping blindly out into (metaphoric) traffic and no one swerves, the cars pass right through my translucent flesh.
No impact. I just cease to exist, trapped within myself a prisoner of my own fears.
Like a devourer, it emerges; sucking the life from everything. Flowers wilt, even Roses' die.
It's nothing, not even a thing - no one panic.
Am i falling? If I'm standing still why do i have this sense of falling, as though the ground under my feet has ceased to exist and i float for barely a moment before being dropped out of control.
These things i feel, these memories i dread. They are barely my own, just a figment of another reality. My own false reality. A place I've created to torture my very soul.
Am i a masochist? Probably..
-ShadowFigment [Is done...]
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