The Illusion

Terribly aware, the illusion slips inside.
I'll never need nor want again.
At least, that's what I'll believe, and so it must be true.
I am the product of the fraud I misperceive.

My ego wanted a mirror, and so I took it there.
Terribly aware, the illusion slips inside.
That some wealth has left itself, seven pounds of gold.
I couldn't see my worth, so I turned and sold my soul.

On some barren hilll of snow, I'm the purest of them all.
Because the reality of life, is subject to what I decide.
Terribly aware, this illusion slips inside.
I saunter throught the cold, to imagine my alone.

A tearstained blanket groans, as I grip it near.
There's no place for improvement, it's all been a lie.
Entitled to my thoughts, my directions disapear.
Terribly aware, the illusion slips inside.