Eventually the fear is taking control of you,
You are begging to like the situation,
The paranoid is the only solution for your virtual enemies,
Every look that someone takes at you... it is
unforgiveable,
The demons in your head walking around like they own the
place and they like you,
You talk to imaginary prophets that can kill you in a
flash,
The cold hand of death is worming you inside,
The shouts of crying adults that runing scared are like a
poet in your ears,
You stop caring about food and drink.

And then, one day, a kid approaches you, giving to you a
flower that he picked out in the garden,
You fight the tiers, but still the dont stop coming out and
then

You may rest in peace.