and sometimes it feels like i'm fighting a war, where even surviving through each day is a hero's tale in itself (i'll tell you, someday), and that, of all things, puts me to bed each night.
except that if i'm fighting a war, then everyone is...but what makes this real? perhaps you only realize you're fighting when you start losing.
was never cut out for this..i'm a defective model. watch, i'll be recalled in a second, vanish from before your eyes. a figment of your collective imaginations. i don't really exist.
somewhere, somehow, there is a reason in a collection of madness that drives the cogs in this machine. and somewhere, somehow, i'm lying face down in the mud of a battleground no-one's ever seen before.
good night.
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so many of us are on our own battlegrounds..just trying to get out of the mud.
ReplyDeletewhere does your battleground end and the next begin? i say this because, rest assured. there are others.
[by the way...i almost hate to disappoint, but you're most certainly not a figment of anyone's imagination :)]
'night