Reincarnation.

I've masked myself with a hostile personification
Because boredom kills and I do not want to die;
I showed off a display of the beauty of insanity
To an audience of hanged pedestrians;
All are paintings of apathetic personifications,
Hiding in their malignant shells,
Escaping from the mask of a tyrannical personification.

We live in a safe world;
Knowledge is to be found in a library;
This year, the library turned eighteen.
Death is greeted with cremation by ice
As we believe that everyone is amazing,
That people are defined by their personality.

Everyone refuses to accept the blinding clarity
Brought upon by the flames of a sordid winter.
We are encased in the frost of the best poem.
We are shielded behind the madness of a tree
And the falsified smile of sweeper.
Whenever there is poison in my food,
I rather live the life of a shampoo.

Every single day, we are binding darkness;
It is thus hard to believe that I'm just a teddy bear,
Torn, broken, anticipating the last night.
What is left unbroken is my solid crimson heart;
It remained true until I've encountered the battle.
It is during that battle that I've entered a state of trance;
It is during then that I've became a vicious tyrant.

I'm desperate for escape, so I'll transition through time
And consciously avoid the events leading to my suicide.
I'll ignore all lives but the lives in transition;
My inner demons will be the first that I'll kill;
Please rest assured that I'll kill them before they crawl.

To my past self, I'll write a short letter
Explaining to him the indecipherable in a short time.
A consequence is that my past will be stoned;
A consequence is that my past will transition into the longest song;
A consequence is that my past will undergo a journey through humanity;
A consequence is that my past will transition into his own reflection.

I will transition to a time where there was only my dark side and me.
All my dream journals will be about my guilt in haven.
I will rewrite, over and over again, the wanderer's poem.
I will request, over and over again, to love me for my shadows.

The time has come, for me to sing the last chorus;
To stop hiding me in me, to end my solo masquerade,
As the audience only consists of a chimera and me.
A time so uncertain, I would rather blackout;
A world without thrills, please tell me a story.
I'll appreciate anything you say, for I am a prisoner.
Any story told to me will always have a positive impact
In preventing me from suffering a death by irony.

I want a simple life, with just a broom to sweep;
Maybe I'll finally grow up and leave the transition.
When I tell people my story, it will be a different story;
A story where the first sentence illustrates many corners.
My story will be simple, just like a broom to sweep.
"I want to go back to a time when I worried about filters,
When I worried about myself being slightly restrained,
When all I wanted to be was a successful runaway,
Before I forget everything after my inevitable reincarnation."