Living Lies

 

Not a day goes by where I don't think about living a life of lies. Every pillar that holds my life is made of lies so strong it can pierce the skin of the thickest animal in the world. A world where I would shut my consciousness and enjoy the world as it was meant to be seen.

A world where I will see every colour as what they are in life without seeing them all as black and white. A world where I will allow lies to masquerade as truth; since the world I created is made of lies, and it needs a constant flow of lies to keep the blood flowing through my veins, in a world where deception will be the only window in prison inside my mind. Uneven bricks block all the other windows with a thick layer of cement.

A world where I will have no choice but to see it through an illusion. Where only pain I will experience is the pain of intrusion into reality. Reality will be the sharpest pin, just biding its time to touch the bubble I made.

I will try to hold the pin for as long as possible at the door. It won't be long before the sun strikes its rays on the dark clouds hovering over my world. But hopefully, if it ever gets to that point, my world will be so dark grim reaper's scythe will turn into a goodnight kiss from a mother.