My hands hesitate
as I reluctantly create
the thing that will be my demise.
With eyes wide,
lips parted in horror--
what have I done?
Its too late,
the deed is done.
And I wait in stoney silence,
regret washing over my face.
I have created a monster within me.
I refuse to cultivate a single happy ending
for my doomed creation.
It starts out happy,
as I clumsily type a page
but soon fills with a dark grim
and the death of the thing I hold most dear.
The worst part of I all
is the way my fingers fly at such a rate
so fast and nimble and ready
the darker the story gets.
My whole body shakes as I curl up
and wonder what I have done.
It was so simple--
I thought it would be fun.
Only I can hear my bitter biting laughter
as I think upon that past me's innocent idea.
Lets create something.
It will be fun.
Lots and lots of fun.
My feet find flooring but my eyes see only
a blurred version of the world.
I am ruined and wrecked beyond repair--
and I have no one but me to blame for it.
Little things in life fall apart in front of my eyes,
trains and coffee, songs and things from my childhood
couches and booths and rainbows
all broken and impossible to be fixed.
And I try, almost desperately
I try so hard to fix it all
but I find that it is impossible.
Tears spring up as I gaze at a lampshade
and type out
--just one more thing--
that will ruin yet another place or idem for me.
And my gaze flickers to a drawing
of my creation
and for reasons unknown to me,
and possibly the universe,
Its been so much fun,
But its time to say goodbye.
Of course I lied.
I could never say goodbye,
no matter how many times I try.
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