The White Picket Fence

I am a pile of leaves waiting to be affected by the winds of time;

Scared of what the future holds.

I lay here calm and collected,  my emotions trapped inside;

Bursting at the seems, my sanity is wavering.

 

I have the voices of my conscience to guide me;

My tour guide is corrupt.

A mad man trapped behind the white picket fence.

A man full of rage.

 

I look at my reflection and see myself slowly changing; 

The terrifying man has claimed me. 

I am his, and he is mine.

We are one.

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