Blissful Illusions

The realization of the lack of potential 

Stings like a knife being twisted into a wound 

Doused with rubbing alcohol 

While being hit in the head with a cinderblock. 

As gruesome as this may sound, 

It is a reality that is relived day after day 

As my conscious and often rational mind 

Attempts to make sense out of the massive collection 

Of twisted metal shards 

That my heart continues to produce uncontrollably 

Under the illusion 

That we are blissfully skipping through 

Some magically enchanted forest 

On an endless journey bound for our happily ever after.-