This is a dream.
A dream, conceived and birthed by the one they call imaginary, is what we live and breath.
This world, you see, is nothing more then an illusion;
a play acted out by wolves in sheep skins.
They lure you in with shiny things,
It is only when you are caught in the lions maw do you realize;
it's all a lie.
This world, and it's many rulers, lie and cheat,
lead you astray,
like a lam to the slaughter.
The things you call make-believe,
the world you call imaginary,
that’s the true reality.
Funny, isn't it?
How you've been so easily deceived.
But when someone tells you the truth,
when you see they've awoken,
you hate them, beat them.
You enjoy their pain;
but what you don't realize is that, that's apart of the lie.
The things that go bump in the night are controlling you,
smooth talking you to sleep when you are close to waking up.
“religion is a crutch for the weak,”
“you're not weak; are you?”
wrapped in chains,
you scream out,
try to escape on your own.
But you can't,
no one has ever been awaken by themselves,
fought a war single handed.
So now what...
will you hate me for telling you the truth?
Or will you fight against all odds to find the light?
Will you remain blind,
Or will you wake up.
This is your choice to make.
This is your reality.
© Copyright 2016 swords edge. All rights reserved.
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