---

Reality turns to glass.
Water hits against the shimmering pane.
Thought process broken down into shards.
Tiny pieces of agony.

I cannot hide. I cannot keep.
The trauma deep inside of me.
Wounds heal and come back again.
Born again like the phoenix.
The egg shell shattered.

Joy, love, hope, sorrow,
all produced the same tones.
Fear, hate, sadness, despair;
what I felt, I felt alone.

Covert and cryptic.
I reject the palms of fools hands.
Just saturated, no colours.
I reject all hues of this land.
With such hatred, such venom.
Sick of all this seething purity.
While feeding this black void;
fitting on the mask of obscurity.

I stand amongst the dirt, beside the river.
How few would venture out through the days of Winter.

In better times,
my eyes opened brighter.
Never forget how the waters gleamed.
My heart beat lighter.

From the river of our youth,
flows passion and disorder.
Follow the channel as it narrows,
losing its bloom and breath.

We are reaching the falls of death.
We feel the weight and the pull from its current.
We are trembling, we are shaking with its tide more rapid.
We are fearful, we are afraid of what is down below,
The great unknown.

I stand amongst the dirt, beside the river.
How few would venture out through the days of Winter.
A sadness pulls me towards the edge, to end my journey.
I will always remember and belong to this dark bleak December river.

I am the destroyer.

I am reality.

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