I'm no longer strolling down a winding, moonlit path at midnight guided only by the stars hanging by threads.
That path was destroyed a long while back. The sidewalk was torn up, willow trees pulled out of the ground. The stars were ripped out of the night sky, forced to live underneath your feet. The moon was told she was beautiful no longer, so she hid her face for an eternity.
That path was ruined by you.
Now, I'm sprinting down an endless hallway. It's pitch black with nothing but a flickering flashlight with a red bulb to guide my pounding steps. My heart matches the pace of my strides. And all you can do is pull your hair out and scream and cry to your lifeless pillow for hours in the middle of the night. You kick wildly hoping that that will rid you of energy so maybe you'll be able to get a wink of sleep. But you can't blame this on me, no way. It's all your fault, you've brought this hell down on yourself. The twinkling stars are now knives in your back, the moon is now a billowing flame that licks the air and grows with every passing second. The path I walked along has now become the one hell you prayed to avoid. But don't blame me, as you are the one who created me.
I am your thoughts, and you plea to get rid of me. Slowly, I'm taking over your mind but only because you're letting me. You fall to your knees after the last glimpse of daylight fades behind the trees. You know that it's my time, the spotlight is one me. You hide your face inside your hands as I break down the walls and begin my daily routine. I start with shouting at you all the things you've ever screwed up, and then I whisper endlessly how useless you are. But don't blame this on me, no don't blame this on me. You brought this hell, all I provided was a demon. I am your thoughts, and you are my creator. But somehow, I still own you in the dark, dark, dark hours of night.
