I would love some opinions on it.
Please, do not steal this and use it for yourself, I spent a long time writing this, and each “verse” of this has come from my own life experiences, and I would appreciate it if people wouldn’t use them for their own amusement.

Thank you (:

A heavenly body, consumed and swallowed by the dark nothingness of invention.
Illuminated fragments of eternity, collapsed, fractured, tossed into oblivion.
A black veil dwindles and spins, doing dances of the most beautiful soul.
I elevate my hands, and with them…caress the humming thoughts that play in my mind.
I am conducting a symphony within my soul.
I trace my fingers along my skin, a*suring myself that I exist.
Voices in the blackened sky, descend upon my being.
I have contrived my own demise. I have taken a seat to glimpse into my very own tragedy.
The beast has taken hold.
My heart pounds beneath my flesh.
I am alientated. Completely, fully alinetated.
As I gaze into the mirror, my reflection is that of a young child.
My hair, delicate and lustrous. The color of freshly grown wheat.
My eyes sparkle like the stars in the sky. Gleaming with promise.
My cheeks, rosy and aglow.
I am wearing a white dress, the color of the sun at first glance.
It is as if I am surrounded by a ray of light, the warmth of the sun caressing my face.
It is a sweltering summer day. Sweat gleams from my skin, and sticks to me like honey.
Before me lies a stretch of land so vast, that I cannot tell where the Earth ends.
I gently place my feet onto the feathery groung, and squish my toes into the blades of gra*s.
Then, I inhale the warm summer air. The smell of fresh linen and cinnamon surrounds me.
I bolt.
I let out a hearty laugh as I extend my arms. Perhaps I will fly today.
The warm air kisses my fingers and the wind runs through my veins.
This is my wonderland.
Suddenly, a gust of frigid wind.
Clouds, the color of ashes and coal descend upon the sky, swallowing light.
The wind hisses and sneers, and I begin to run again.
Hot tears jump from my face, my vision blurred.
I fall onto the ground, and clamp my eyes shut.
It’s over.
I gaze into the mirror.
My hair, threadlike and disheveled. The color of sand and ashes.
My eyes, gla*sy and dull. Piercing with focus.
My cheeks, gaunt and hollow.
My face, rough and dry like concrete.
I am wearing ragged jeans, and a black itchy sweatshirt.
I open my eyes, and I have grown.
I find myself sitting among a giant willow tree. The leaves, dead, crunch beneath my feet.
The tree is bare, and brittle.
The air smells of burning wood, and it burns my eyes.
At first, everything has turned blue..as if I have stared at the sky too long.
I blink.
Nothing.
The world has turned the color of sadness.
This is my hell.

This is it.
This is where it begins.
I take my first step into this hellish realm of winding staircases and airborne doves.
And I am trapped.
I am fighting my way out, gently pounding my fists against the liquid gla*s.
I am so used to looking in mirrors. Windows, car doors, staring into any and every reflective surface.
But it is not because I am vain.
It is to prove that I am appearing on not only the surface, but the need to know that I am actually there. Existing…living…even breathing.
But I have a secret. A guitly, unlit secret. Yet it keeps me feeling tranquil, and it fills me up, and empties me out.
At first, it is the most frigtening thing that exists. I bury my head in my hands in a heave of inexplicable sobs and I am defeated.
But then, it becomes easier. I no longer face the threat, the chance, of opening the door, revealing a sliver of beaming white light, and falling headfirst into the nights of hushed worries and barbaric thoughts.
Something new is going on. A vile, and yet comforting posion has seeped into my very body and soul. And in my mind…things begin to go dark. Colors fade into blood reds, and discolored greys. Even my own mind goes dark.
And yet it is so very seductive, so very alluring, so all-consuming. So very entertaining.
At first.
I am not scrambling to get back into the nest. The nest of comfort, of security. I am trying to leap out.
My head is never mute.
And that needlelike voice, that started out softly, as though below layers of flesh, begins to get so deafening that it drowns out everything else.
A plastic grin appears across my face, my eyes gla*sy.
Asking myself, what shall we play today? Isn’t life so traumatic, so exciting? So high and shrill, the sound of whirring cogs and wheels inside my head.
For a long time I have been convinced that the opposite of pa*sion was the human demise.
I was wrong.
They are implicit, connected by a thread. A tiny thread.
I have no patience for this thing that I am attached to. I want it to dissappear so that i could become a pure mind, a walking entity.
I say that I have this, but not that I am this.
I have begun to harbor this dillusion tha