The sunlight damns me even through the peaks of the ashen sky. "Who do you want me to be?!" I scream without opening my mouth at no one and at nothing.

If I am never to be myself, am I to be anything? If what's valid in me is only composed of a false ideal, a false sense of self than am I even valid in my existence?

Stitches and clockwork, must my life be this compromise? This exception to the rule, built in as the accepted threshold for manufacturer error? To come this far to just be tied with steel woven thread like gravity to the rocks is beyond pathetic.

What happiness and contentment can I ever hope to grow in the shadow of all that I am and can never be?

Starring out from behind blue eyes, poisoned green, am I blind.

Destroy Once Done