Slowly dying,
Hallucinations.
Dark room, alone,
Talking to my conscience.
My friends have come,
The thinking awakens.
Deafening pitch of silence:
High, thin and piercing.
Covering my ears,
Hyperventilating.
Pounding my own head,
"What is wrong with me?"
Pitch black thoughts,
"When will I be happy?"
I scream.
Flux.
