Dystopia

It was confusing at first but easy to understand, too repungant to allow into the mind

It would come and go at the hardest times, tempting, his body denies but the mind had a mind of its own

Drifting away with no mast, no direction

following the light, blinded, oblivious to the storm striking his ship, the rain drenching his shoulders heavy

He would wake up, only to sleep again

The darkness like a canvas to run freely and paint his world, 

a utopia

Was he at fault? Who could say? The world spoke and he followed

Happiness but despair 

There were two sides to the coin, only one to him

Was he at fault? Who could say? The bread was half-baked, but he still devoured it

Desperately trying to cherish every flavor within

His world was timeless but not void of time

The waters flowed up 

and up 

and up

carrying him outside upon the bedsheets 

as he realized

that world 

was not 

mine