On the inside hallucinations are created, a sense of clarity while the others stay sedated.
Graphite hits paper, scribbles take form, even the beauty he’s known has to grow horns.
Sitting in books to avoid the temptations of crooks, dreams begin and end.
The pencil snaps, the paper burns, thoughts tell him of a fatal turn.
A beautiful world created from a mass of illusions is proven only through his own conclusions.
His perception of reality is so right it’s wrong, for slavery is not a sense of savory.
An existence with his place hidden judges him only when alone, bidding his life forbidden.
Society’s interpretation of his meaning ruins his hope of success, proving their lives protest.
Low self-esteem followed by anxiety’s attacks, his only friends cause his brains collapse.
I bid their debts repaid when personal perfection is found in one’s reflection.