This is not a fantastic fracture,

This is not a simple glitch in the machine...

Let the preposterous rise to the surface once more,
And once more, provide my despondent eyes with gleam...

Some say that staring through fissures;

Leads to spiritual awakenings, the greatest of epiphanies, the most miraculous turn of events, the strength to see what is unseen

However, this time around I'm not sure what they mean,
I'm not sure what they mean as I slip further back into the extreme,
Into places so familiar, might as well welcome back the opaque theme...

It's almost amusing to wonder about this shift in degree,
For I'm certain I've managed at least another 180
Except this time...It seems, it is reality that's flipped me...

Into the pompous swamp of issues left unseen;
Ill-lit monstrous weeds begin to close in on me,

There is a shade in which I'm guessing resembles a sickly sort of green;
As they close in around me,
They don't want me leave...

Wrapping past trauma around my limbs,
Using the most blunt of force, but these limbs still aren't breaking,
I suppose here and now they want me to pay for the unforgivable sin,
Of loosening the tight grasp of insanity, of almost escaping...

They pull me further down, they surround me at all sides
Whispering sweet, faint lullabies in which I have heard a thousand times,

The cyanide like lullabies, I remember from young;
Spoken harshly, sometimes sung,
I wonder if they use my Mother Tongue...?

All the notes I understand,
They tell me of an hourglass, and the last spec of sand
The notes hum low or vibrate high, and as always, they all signal goodbye...

And yet, I hold my breath, because I of all people,
Know the words sung are more than metaphors, and they are lethal...

Still, there are certainly many times I wonder why...
I continue to resist the cyanide...

They pull me further down below, my head cannot stay afloat...
Place a grip around my throat, but I don't sputter, nor do I choke,
And at this point, I'm not sure if they are weary, or even more provoked...

I hold my breath, I internalize their beating
Some fractures rupture the skin, but I don't focus on what pours out, because to me, it's just like the time before repeating;

And at this point in time, I believe that I have almost lost all feeling...

So desinsitized, the darkness itself ends up frightened and hides;
I earn the title of Master in this particular chapter...

I've won the latest round of the game, in this sickening domain;
One of the first games I that have ever  known...
At the end of the day, I'd rather not play,
But for some reason, it simply won't let me disown...

I then take a seat, with victory feeling like defeat, upon my dreary thrown...
I take a look at my deranged subjects...All reflections of myself; again, letting my gaze hang low; as I still feel alone...

Now, inspecting masses of my ruptured skin and damaged bone,
I'm sure feeling distorts my once blank face, but I'd rather it not be shown...

Yet, without a second's notice, unhinged pride wells up inside; for I realize I've survived,

I begin to wonder, if this is my home...

Left to roam with the flaring symptoms of my syndrome...
Kept in the company of cyclones,
Maybe...I never truly was alone;

This is not a fantastic fracture,

This is the latest rupture in my mind, it seems...

Let the preposterous rise to the surface once more,
And once more, provide my despondent eyes with gleam...

To my unnerved surprise, this indeed is my home; on the border of interpretation and fantasy