schism
I am lost. I feel like an orchid whose petals drift in the wind. I feel like I have no core.I obviously cannot bear the agony of my true self. As it were, my mind splintered, and an actor came to show, on front stage. He was charming and brought me to a room with many masks.
But I know misery flows through my veins. It chafes at my heart. I'm flooded by gruesome imagery of death--my own. I feel besieged by my thoughts.
I try to elope from my nightmares as I envision angels taking me away. They never do though, and so I pick out a mask and do acts, while my broken self lay hidden behind the curtain.
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