If you really knew me, you would know I suffer from depression.

A misdiagnosed type of new vision.

Seeing reality as it was always meant to be.

Seeing the actuality of the false viatlity of the world.

Seeing in black and white and then only just black.

The colors, hell, they never come back.

Looking at the world and thinking "Why me?" instead of thinking,

"Why not?"

Noticing the fractures of the semi-perfect crystal.

Noticing the hems of the artist's nearly perfect pencil,

case.

Noticing the odds and ends and never begans and the nver do wells and the never has beens

and seeing just,

this.

Seeing just black.

Seeing the world in it's glory and it's lack,

of luster.

A misdiagnosed vision in a blind leading world.

Where you and only you see the real color it held.

Noticing your place that you sadly expected.

The truth is though,

I won't let you be infected.