Work Text:
it was a gift to most,
but if anyone found out, they’d see his plight.
a gift given by the strange,
a ‘silly joke’, made his birthright.
his gift to behold,
one from above, or maybe below.
to know of fiction,
for he knows of the show.
to know, oh to know,
of the world above them.
to feel, to see,
that their actions are written,
that there was never any hope, then.
tv, pen, eraser, nickel.
people he met on the show, might consider friends.
but those thoughts were manufactured.
villainy, a path he took.
in the second season, a means to an end.
but those actions were manufactured.
betrayal, a cutoff,
by his duomate held dear.
but that fight was manufactured.
a third place finish,
the outcome he most feared.
but that outcome was manufactured.
for his villainy set him on this path.
one he never wanted to take.
to put his friendships at stake.
a path he maybe, might have wanted,
for those thoughts too, were manufactured.
for the sake of a silly bit,
to make a joke.
fun to poke.
the suffering he goes through for it.
that no matter how hard he tries,
he isn’t real.
that on the show,
he can’t truly feel.
a thought still his,
but not really.
for this fate too, was manufactured.
brief moments of lucidity,
ressurection, ascension,
at one’s elimination.
but they were not truly freedom,
for those too, were manufactured.
but then it hits.
is this really him,
is this really his thoughts?
he’s just words on a screen,
white on black,
or black on white.
written by another,
but still not truly him.
a labour of love,
for all to see.
one someone can just read,
for free.
in a ridiculed medium,
in a fanfiction.
for these thoughts too, were manufactured.