To lose something so dear,
So close, so near

Is it worth it?

Is it something that should be?

Was it never good enough for me?

Danger

Death

To that part of me

That is me,
Keeps me registered in this world-

With a distinct voice,
A distinct line among the dots.
Should I abandon it?
Let it rot?
Would it be good for me?
To kill off this side of me?
To lose it completely?

"Yes"
They say.
"It's not the correct way. So, yes throw it away."
So cruel, heartless, empty they seem.
Maybe they're right...

My hand reaches for that knife-
It is called, "Structure"
I bring it down upon these words I write, and...

They bleed...
Bleed out of the paper, screaming in fear.

"Why!? Why are you doing this!?!" they cry out, but I hold the knife of structure
My mind already being taken over by such beliefs.

"You are words, you do not speak, your use matters not to me."
The knife answers, through me.

"Be gone, reform disappear. For this is my home for later and near"

The words are wounded, but I am a slave- to this knife called "Structure"
For I must follow its ways.

And they, the cruel, realist of my language.
Smile down at me, and put a hand on my shoulder saying,

"Very good , that's the way. They're just words anyway."

But I feel nothing now, and my emotions seem fake, a canvas left blank. No more special quotes, special ways of talking...the words-I've killed them...

And in turn...

Killed the light side of me.

And they see not, the change. For they only see what they want to see...What they can see.

As darkness takes me once again, and I am nothing but a shallow shell
enslaved by them, an empty vessel...

Dead.