Perception is the keyhole to a masquerade ball of truth.
Elegantly I dance my way into the mechanics of confusion.
I pick away at the lock with a burglar's skillful dedication,
Careful to not destroy any chances I have at finally learning.

Lights dim down and silhouettes fill my vision.
There is cold slab beneath my skin,
And an endless sky falling above me.
The time has come when I slid under the knife.

With each careless, accidental step outside,
I do unjust upon my exposed, cloudy eyes.
With each destroyed friend lying in my hands,
I do unjust upon my broken, scarred limbs.

"Please help", becomes a cliché that is as worn
As, "a friend in need is a friend indeed".
Compassion is becoming a cliché as steadily
As we are all slowly sinking down prematurely.

To break through the caverns of chaos,
To run full speed past the fatal traps thrown,
To finally find that golden goblet of truth,
To dream all this.

Pot shots are taken each day,
As peers come head in hands,
Tears: their river of coping.
These shots fired from an invisible barrel.

Struck down from a ball of lightening,
My hands are stuck to the material that binds me.
Awake and dreaming a nightmare, I wish.
Wish only to rip away these ropes and assist.

A torture mastered from years of practice,
The mind becomes the dealer of the torment.
Suave smirk, it throws out possibilities.
A meal of hope, garnished with despair.

Why is it so?
Why is that we do this?
Why does it seem we were all robbed at the cradle?
Why is this so?

These are the questions that keep the society up
They are the cause of an insomniac lifestyle.
Time spent on resting is dedicated to time solving.
Time solving an enigmatic paradox.

This is a time where a raised hand means a question.
Answers are as nonexistence as the great beasts that once roamed.
This is a time where I become the most confused of my life.
All my answers are as lost as ship in the fog.

When the time comes, for me to approach the pearls,
I find that the only question that would float upwards
Would be simply: "What is honestly going on here?"
There I would spend another eternity waiting for an answer.

Bars slam down and send me sprawling to my feet.
The subway of my mind comes to a screeching halt.
The careful path of thoughts are derailed and destroyed.
Along with any illusions of completion manifested.

Only in due time will the chest in front of me open,
And a glowing aura will fill the room, as a key becomes its treasure.
Only in due time will I grasp the key with love and care.
For I am no exception, to the general rule that I am governed by.

All those wounded around me, will mend themselves.
All those destroyed builds around me, will rebuild themselves.
All those tears in the fabric of society will sow themselves again.
All the problems will without a doubt fix themselves.