Reincarnation

Am I losing my mind, or finding something hidden?
Ideas swarm restless, screaming—
Read this, understand that,
Find the plan before time guts me like a clockwork beast.

It’s not hell I fear.
It’s the nothing.
The dead air, the black screen,
Memories pounding my skull like fists, three minutes before the credits roll.
Game over!
No encore!

But maybe it’s worse—
Maybe I come back.
Again.
To this.
This SHITSHOW of a planet
Where hope gets bought and sold,
Where dreams die quietly in cubicles,
And love costs more than it gives.

I’ve seen miracles or maybe madness.
It’s in my bloodline, after all.
The visions, the whispers, the cracks in reality—
Schizophrenia dressed as prophecy.
Or maybe it’s real.
Hell, maybe it’s both.

I play it cool when others confess.
“Oh, yeah, that’s just…coincidence.”
Inside, I’m shaking hands with shadows.
Pastors preach, therapists decode,
Pagans party in the ruins of what we’ve lost.
And here I am,
A walking contradiction,
Afraid not of death, but of the return.

If reincarnation’s the punchline,
Then this is the cruelest joke ever told.

NP