Dream the Seventh
In a prison of my own making, what right do I have to beg to be rescued?
When was it that I started to care? If only I didn’t. When was it that instead of drudging along I began to try an walk with purpose? A sad imposter I must make, a sorry imitation of all the other confident, purposeful beings in this world.
You’re all talk, and isn’t that the quality you claim to hate the most?
If I perish…no, I’ve never feared before, so why now? What have I gained that I’ve become reluctant to lose?
And why do I have such confidence that as long as you continue to smile at me, everything will be alright?
Even so, tomorrow I will pass beyond the reach of your kindness. I beg you, just please do not look at me with scorn.
But that is why I exist, the sole being who will never despise you completely.
Sad, isn’t it? That I have to create such a delusion to comfort myself.
Please, don’t compare me to those useless delusions of unimaginative people. We’ve been together far too long for you to talk of me so coldly, hehe.