Panic is written into peace as dark is to light.
Without one, the other loses its significance.
And yet, the pain one brings is unfathomable to exist without.
With every breath, that is something to remember, the incomprehensible existence of a counter to madness.
Utter solitude shocks one without an opposite, but not knowing of an opposite cannot possibly cause any harm.
But the bullets of cold reality do not cower in the face of reason.
Power hungry madness has no challenge against hope.
Slices of reality are no more than the papers of a lunatic.