A STONE MIRROR

By Brycen Samora Foster

The black buildings hold broken-back brainchildren snorting the ashes of their purpose because their parents forgot them, to work for the brokers who killed them, to get the funds to get high of the fumes that the man in the wall produced, and see the buildings shrouded in the gloom as great again and to watch the fights outside the window like their kids again fighting real death with ego death to keep hearts pumping

 the definition of insanity is funny, yet it's the only reason that our souls are still running, though its systems don't run on dreams or the bliss of life but the man in the wall and his bitter might, with his punishing hammer he demands justice for wayward workers who couldn't make out if they were alive or dead

 “life or death?” “What's the difference?” the man in the wall said “It's a prison in a prison or a prison for a prison though they haven't seen anything yet!” screaming his lungs out in the house of their heads while they screamed to the heavens “Why does my blood not run red?” 

because of the poisoned steam that streams through their lungs that runs to make them accept his destiny as king and their infinite doom to cheer “Man in the wall please kill us all soon!” 

they say soon because consequences are coming the brainchildren have died and finally become suffering

 judgment day is here, and the whole world is cowering in fear of the new god and his new cycle, but nothing can save them the rocks are all rubble, and the rivers are all sand flowing slowly to the world furnace to forge the man in the wall’s brand for the sheep who are “surprisingly still alive” eager for the worldwide reboot that “will surely save their lives” though at the end all that’s left is a tall stone mirror that they stare at for hours at a time, eventually realizing that it was

all 

a 

lie.