There is no fight when the voices begin

An immediate obedience naturally sets in

There is no defence against these spiritual offenders

Waiting and hoping that they accept your surrender

I wake up refreshed, feeling o.k.

But sounds of familiarity ruin my day

No night passes without a dark nursery rhyme

A symphony of disaster destroying my mind

It’s meaningless to speculate on how I’ll feel tomorrow

At any time it can rain sorrow

Usually when you don’t want it the most

They’ll ravage your brain, make you feel like a ghost

A spectator of life, a world full of actors

A part written for me that ends in disaster

I can’t control my mood most times

Because of manufactured emotions made in the sky

Some words are clear and others are vague

If you hear them, focus will fade

Designers of days, shapers of reality

Melting away truth, deciding my sanity

In a daydream, start to drift away

Broken concentration, shackled in chains

Making connections to words that mean nothing

An artificial realm built for suffering

Chris Wiersema (c)

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