Revealer of truths, Knows not bias,
Purity in essence
It projects with sincerity,
Invokes Pleasure and pain, if enticed to look again,
Refrain from meddle, and abstain quibble,
Thus, be warned or
Steer clear your sight, tame your fear, or be engulfed by its fright,
To fall prey into its clutches is to shatter,
To piece oneself together with shattered glass is to be broken,
A quantified illusion,
Each broken piece
Leaves a different perception,
Does one not feel the edges?
The guilt in this deception?
Will it be too late to realize?
Some palms grip this shard tighter than others,
Some hands hold it dearer to their hearts than others,
The fool says,
" Their feelings, I am not to regard,
I do not hold so dear, as I am able to discard,
It is my tool, used to win this game I play,"
Once the cut is made, the blood does not stain;
It only covers in a warm tint,
However, this warmth reveals the true image, so faint, but still visible,
With cruel intention his tainted soul shows itself in its dark nature,
In its lust for warmth,
It feeds, unable to resist, frivolous in pursuit,
It is hungry again for another victim,
Soon enough, it has already begun courting seduction of the next cut,
The grand illusion lures one into this dogged trance,
Relying on the corruption,
Working in ways of cunning,
It stays hidden day and night, but deceives until,
Time opens eyes and seers see through lies,
Once the realization is made, the game is no more,
When he looks into their gazes,
What he sees is the true reflection,
Ensnared in Deception, a Criminal,
Trapped in a flickering image by each set,
Locked away in memories with a lifelong sentence,
Remnants of uncertainty gnaw away at contentment,
To fall short of his own expectation,
Failure spreads storming chaos within,
Insanity reigns supreme,
The drowning begins with the inevitable flood,
Soon enough it seeps into his daily dream,
With no room to spare in his head, his eyes leak,
A good lesson to remember,
When you live to deceive,
Never let the influence underneath your eyelids speak,
Scorned by revelation, and loathed by those who once held him close?
Unable to cover up the lies, the reflection he sees trembles.
Within his trauma he finds survival, it springs from the fear,
The discomfort welcomes him, and he becomes a prisoner of its cycle,
So the fool lives by these words from that day onward,
" With every new day,
Yesterday's memories leave only one motto to follow,
Make new, make change, don't make haste, go back and try again,
To be perfect,"
He was Addicted.