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Blinded by the flashes of the real world

Set up so that you could bear another day

In the place, where a fondle of a flower

Tears your skin as only a sharp blade wound

And you take it as an act of affection

Wicked is your sense of reality

How much more can you bear this pain

How many lies are there left for you to feed your fear

How long

How long will you believe

That nobody will be able to find you

That nobody will be able to threaten you

That in your, out of thread woven, world

Your eyes covered with a silver overlay

Won't notice that has long ago taken my sight away

Is this pressure of reality?

Your wounded with a blunt blade dreams

Fade away in your arms

Loosing its contemporary shape

Something returning?

Can you still remember this sight from before the days of your isolation?

Old cold bare concrete structure

In a merciless manner destroying your contemporary vision

Blunt bangs, echoing in the back of your head

In physiological spasm encroaching on every sell of your body

There will be nothing left of this mist - your dream

Shedding tears over your dying visions

Your secure cell, flowery carpet

You seem to omit to notice that you killed it

With your ignorance

With your belatedly noticed blade in your stomach