In the beginning there was emptiness, there was void.
In order to achieve fruitful existence I reached into the pool;
The ripples emanated as the goals and desires of others,
Their aspirations seemed a natural and good course for me.
I came to believe that the happy peoples aspirations saved them,
Whilst mine lead me into a deep dark hole where I existed as nothing.
I yearned to be those things that others rejoiced and held high,
I yearned to be popular, to be cool, to be accepted and belong.
As I began to find my goals unattainable, and began to accept my fate,
My inability to integrate, My inability to satiate myself,
I fell into the earth and learnt the art and salvation of hating me.
I longed for understanding and sympathy, and received nothing but spit.
I lay up at nights turning from side to side, drowning in my sweat.
The only thing that appeared to help was sorrow, was tears.
I began to create a world for myself, a world where everyone died,
Any dream that I could forge of pain, Anything would do.
I began to use my world, and learnt to lie for an empathetic burst,
I began to crave pain like a junkie and his syringe,
I had created a voice for me, a new being within my head,
I had created hope for me in this darkest of places.
I give you Dr Herbert Cyan.
