There is a fear that grips me,
A future foretold in a high school psych class
Which planted the seed in my mind
That madness can manifest
At the peak of my life
And stay for good,
Like an unwelcome house guest —
No one else can see.
It starts slowly the voice said,
The sinking descent from under the covers
Into the scarlet rage
And the seven seas of sorrow.
Days spent watching the hours slip away
While your mirror image twists and distorts like Dorian Gray.
Now when I bury my face in my pillow
With fists clenched tight,
I can’t help but ask
“Is this it?”
To my offstage God.