The lie that he had every one to believe in was eating away at his life,
Consuming everything that meant something.
In a way that lie was another life he had to live.
The second life was a cover up of the truth that he conceals.
The truth was burning a hole in the absentness of his mind.
Causing a rift to steadily grow larger until it engulfs him entirely.
For the hole to hinder he has to embrace the truth.
He must release the darkness that has clouded his life.
To lighten the obscurity that has imprison him to this lie.

He takes note to neither and fades into the background.
His impression gradually dims.
Masked by the second life.
Isolating the hidden reality.
The life that he has to now lives in is a fabrication.
A silhouette that clings on to his very skin.
An alteration that is soon irreversible.

The truth that is in a self inducing slumber never emerges.
Staying from his mind.
If it is to surface.
Then it will collide with the puppeteer that controls his life.
Fighting an eternal battle.
That will push him off the edge.

When he falls he then realizes that,
He was never in command of his life.
A marionette that performs the same show.

Once the time has come.
For the strings to be cut.

He lies all used up.
An unwanted ragdoll tossed aside.









The lie was his director.
Pulling his strings.
Commanding him.
Being his puppeteer.