The Empty Dance

I used to believe that I was in control, I used to believe that I could do anything, be anything. Every day I wake up trapped in a reality created by someone else And when my eyes are closed by the eternal Darkness I will see Nothing before my eyes For I was truly Nothing—but God’s little plaything Created to Dance and amuse Was something to someone Even though she never truly existed Even to herself. She was empty. I used to believe in perfection, In trying to reach infinity. But—why should I strive for the coffin of glass when that world seeks failure And that god strives for blood more than any other?