What an age to be cloaked in the skin of the enemy…
how deep loathing reeks in my ancestral lineage…
if only I could be seen for how I feel internally…
ah the bitter pings of isolation gnawing at fractured fibers of my fragmented mind.
Without pause on repeat my subconscious sounds:
“DREAMWEAVER DELIVER MY SOUL PLEASE”
what am I begging for?
To whom am I really pleading with?
Whose voice is this that responds to my prayers & whims?
I may never know it perhaps in my doubt I fail myself to fulfill my own destiny of becoming.
