You become what you think about.
If I become what I think about, I'm pretty dark and dim.
Pretty much summed up by clenched teeth in a grin.
Submitting to a happy shell.
When all my mind does is scream and yell.
Am I death, then?
Am I war, then?
Does my brain just want me to be a monster?
Or has it made me one already?
There's hate, there's malice, there's evil...
But sometimes a spark breaks through.
Sometimes the cold outside is taken over by the warmth below.
A crack in the shell.
But wasn't I supposed to be happy on the outside?
Back to day one.
Square one.
Page one.
No, the front cover.
I'm a closed book, waiting to be opened.
I just need to make my cover look good enough to buy.
But what if the story's not good?
What if they get halfway through and start to hate it?
Do I make it interesting or natural?
Flow or make it up as I go?
I know I am what I think, so how do I change my thinking to be the best I can be?
Do I just snap my fingers and just become the best?
When do I get the chance to do it again?
Can I live forever if I think I can?
Do I want to?
I suppose at the end, it'll become more clear.
But for now I guess I'm the embodiment of uncertainty. Whatever ungodly horror that is....