Two The Same

Poncho:

Tommorow I will awaken in the same room as the day before. I will be wearing the same outfit and I will enjoy the same sounds. Buzzards hovering in my ears, they are the keepers of my time. My existence is nothing more than humble. For I make no decisions. My fate is seal, for I have recieved my sentence. There is comfort in that. I no longer worry. I am not in control. The lords are now the keeper of my destiny.

Tommorrow I will awaken in the same bed as I will 2 years from now. I will have to get ready for the same job and I will be awoken by the same sounds. Beep, Beep, Beep. The tourment of my own grim reaper letting me know its another day. I exist only to exist. I am doomed by my own free will. My destiny is what I make of it. I constantly have to choose. I am the creator of all that I know. Am I a god? I AM.

My day is full of the same routine. Those with a strong mind do all they can to stay sane. My mind is blank for I am without thought. My disease has been cured. Is it now that I am truely free? Is it within my physical confinement that I will find my utopia? There goes the buzzard it is time for lunch.

My day is full of everything that may. The possiblities are endless. So much to have, the drive is making me go insane. Every idea leads to another. I am plagued by my own self awareness. Can I ever be happy? Is it in the next thing that I can declare mine be that of which brings me peace? Today I feel like eating some lasagna for lunch.

I sit in my room as another day comes to an end. I look through the bars and see exact copies of me. All of me our confined to their very own personal special location. A place that was designed for just me. Crys of sadness and regret fill the air. Evil and corruption creep along the cement floors. The walls are made of the bones of those before me and the ones after me. Here I will always be. Here I see my final resting place.

I sit in my room as the tv's sleep timer goes off. I look through my window and see that there is no one out there but me. Every person, every soul destined to be as confused and mislead as me. Each of me resides in there own special little space. For me and designed by me. Crys of sadness and regret fill the air. Evil and corruptions creep along my wooden floors. The walls are made of bones of those before me and the ones after me. Here I will always be, free to be what I desire, never knowing where I will end.

-Evad