Insanity is like a bomb, ticking and tocking away in your consciousness, waiting to explode. To unravel the yarns of your mind. Your madness will drown you, enveloping you in an endless shroud of bleak nothingness. Demons will become your friends, holding you against your will.

You could try to hold it together. You anticipate sanity, but it never comes. You’re not getting better.

Not getting better.

Insanity will grip you so tightly that you might suffocate. It will keep holding on, making you forget the world outside your blissful sanctuary of lunacy. It rapes your mind of everything you once knew. It whispers sweet bitter words that you’ve never heard before. The darkness has come for you. You’re too late.

You’re coming undone.