Nemesis...

Nemesis... The name itself stirs up ancient memories... A goddess dressed in gold... Sword held aloft... The ivory face looked so delicate.... yet so strong.... a uniquely paradoxical face... The grace of a snowy white lynx flows inside every cell of her being... She tilts her graceful face as she pulls up the blade to my throat...

Illusions

Illusions... We despise them... We all hate them... Shadows we call them... Fickle visions of light... touch them and they're gone... like flowers made of dust... They may not be the truth and abhorred a lot... But they still have their importance... They make you realise the thin difference... They're the hazy ground between dreams and reality... A grey area... Between black and white... Stygian... Some need them... clutch them so very close to their heart ... Because reality is like a broken mirror... Cutting them everywhere for every moments of their life... Which people in the normal real world call 'madness'... Oh so very different names given by psychiatrists... but its all the same... I see nothing wrong in madness... Its mainly a desire to protect yourself from your painful reality  

gnawing at you with its gore covered fingers... Inside you... Illusions keep the alive at least in some way... At least in some way... they keep them happy and content... Do we have a right to deny them that?