A mannequin clothed by death,
Head bent in his claustrophobic sack.
He stared at a room full of Inorganic heap
Suicidal tendencies rooted so deep.
Wondering at plastic figures around him
Fake smiles and fake skin they live in.
The mannequin searched for a way,
To smite all those who betray.
A way to heal cracked hearts
Pseudo makeup to cover all the scars.
A way to shun this flamboyant hatred that now entered his soul,
A red flame to incinerate this ghoul.
He saw all psyched heads.
Burning themselves all night,
Slaying others in haunting sun’s light.
Living lives as a harrowed nightmare
And tormented by core’s dark flare.
Puppetered by desires,
And mastered by machined liars.
The Protagonist clothed by death,
Lifts his head from the claustrophobic sack.
He saw in himself a faded reflection
Of all the people he hated with such vengeful emotion,
And then came the cursed realization,
That he too was all flesh and bone in this damnation.