There are times where this thought creeps in.
An intruder.
A stupid pest that breeds an unwanted emotion.
A cancer created by your very own mind.
There's no cure,
no treatment,
fucking nothing.
Or so they say.

The scenery is different every time you think about it,
but your dialogue is in a constant loop.
Devouring your head,
Until your pale hard skull is left.
Empty.
Alone.
Unprotected.
Watching as the "uninfected" pass by.

But why would you care?
You're just an empty skull.
Another lost soul to the void.
Are you even worth fighting for?

It's a war.
A constant struggle over your sanity.
As if two threads through your hands were pulling you apart.

An audience,
watching you torture yourself,
Laughs.
They demand more.
…and you follow their orders.

But then,
the voices…they stopped.
A blue light was turned on.

Solitude, bliss…
A counterfeit heaven created,
But not by you.

You spot your savior at the door.
A half empty skull.

And you both leave that void sharing it.