by feyted

The pains of this world bear down upon this timid soul, day after day wearing away morale. Life’s unbearable suffering overcomes any leftover willpower, changing, moulding, destroying. No longer able to survive, the lone existence must find some form of comfort, simple and soothing. Materialistic ease is fleeting, stress builds. If only one could deceive them self into believing a self made reality, a delusion, then everything could exist in harmony.