Descent of Innocence

Descent of Innocence

A Poem by metaljelly

Four screaming insanity-bent megalomaniacs screaming their heads off in an elevator.
All of them are by themselves in the enclosure,
manifesting in their own goals and obstacles while maintaining an undying gleam of self-glorification.
One of their minds are set on a tunnel vision of acquiring money at the costly expense of everything else.
Another's thoughts obsess on being the only celebrity in their own disturbed blown out of proportion world;
addicted to creating a perfectly fake perception of themselves in as many other's heads as she can.
The third is no longer a complete person, they haven't a care in the world;
they do not want to be anything at all, they only survive to feel.
The last is the poorest of them all, the families' forgotten little boy; he is neglected because he's taught nothing, he just goes along for the ride and observes.
What he sees scares him, but even more frightening is the unknown, and being alone.
Because this is all he can see in not too long it's what he will be.
By the time he is he'll be alone in the elevator,
an elevator that goes in spontaneous bouts of up and down but never lets you out.
He has no idea what the buttons are, or what they can do; and in this elevator the controls are infinite.
His life will continue to drive him progressively more insane, but if he keeps pushing the buttons he'll get out.
Finally stepping into the real world, to this strange place; he is a baby, this is where he must learn himself what the people he used to know deprived him of.
He's a wild deer who's wandered onto a highway,
he does not understand how it works, and if he doesn't learn he'll die.
Because the deer will never escape the highway it can only become a victim or adapt.
That's survival,
that's life.

© 2013 metaljelly


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Added on November 13, 2013
Last Updated on November 13, 2013
Tags: insanity, elevator, family, isolation, adaption, learning, broken family

Author

metaljelly
metaljelly

Alameda, CA



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Transplanting into me, the brain of an unstable maniac with a complex in the thoughts, and an itch in the conscience; and yes, I'd like a side of fries with that. I am an observation and a sponge of w.. more..

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