Filth swarms around me,

wading through a marsh of waste,

wading through to reach the light on the other side,

undead hands reach up to drag me down.

Looking at the world through old frosted glass,

cracked, distorted, rusted, stained,

leaving me seeing nothing at all,

only what I imagine I'd see.

All I see,

is a lie,

and what I reject,

is the truth.

I stand on a high pedestal,

polished and shining,

for all to see,

in a abandoned, forgotten hall.

I be the gentle wild flower,

left up dry on the table top,

reaching for the sun,

that only shines through the tv.

The life I seek,

was never there.

What truth is,

It is life!

And the truth to me looked of filth,

I pushed it away.