Fear of that fateful curse,
a wrinkle in the fabric of self,
there is no escaping destiny,
for it has been decided before life began,
a sordid story of fate repeating,
cascading shadows of what was,
but not will be,
I am a one armed bandit not paying out,
signal my fornication,
an ending,
a start,
was I a wish given life,
forever forbidden to live,
pass the mirror and show me your reflection.
for my own has deserted me,
and all I see is a dying thing,
given a pathway,
hidden in a lie…
The Twisted Roads To My Madness 
And that, is how, you’ll, spiral, downward, and continue spiraling, until you hit, that rock bottom, when there’s, no place else to go, but, upward again!
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When the solitude of going nowhere becomes more prolific than setting foot forward or back, the colours that then grow from stagnation are danker than those that grow in the darkness.
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