Morning comes so soon. The days have grown thin with the thoughts that thickened our fears. Men and women on the television make the business of crafting our lives before we live them. Popular trading of despair is hawked in front of children. I see the serrated scars made by the belief of what the normalcy of today is. I see this grotesque being of expectations. I scream, curse and charge at it. Each of my hands burrows in this flesh fortified by slander. Tearing, clawing, ravaging this thing in aggressive glee, I soon see what has brought me terror. Under it all, there’s a rusted mirror distorting the image of ourselves. Neglected because of our own ideals.
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