Fighting consciousness, I eventually fail, and begrudgingly allow alertness.
Intrusive thoughts, like subliminal suicidal propaganda, flash in my head.
Steel sword, shiny, metal clashing, loud
I’m in my own atmosphere, the pressure keeps me from lifting a finger. Traps me in my head.
Sword, shining, clashing, my neck, loud
Desperation eventually overcomes gravitational force when, finally, I pick up my soul and send it to others. They help me carry it.
A marionette too heavy for its strings, skeletal muscles move me into society.
The world sees my daily dance and I hope today is the day I fooled them into thinking my puppet was human.