Mind Control

And the clock starts ticking. The sand of the hourglass
running thin, as an outstretched hand slowly clenches its grip around her throat.
Never tight enough to cause harm, but to show the control you have.

We are programmers of the mind. Scripters of the inner world.
Crafters of the conscious. Builders of inner cities. Leaving things in wreck
And mayhem but building them up to order and control. We hold the key, the
Lock and the chain. We are the masters of your domain.

As the clock strikes again and again and the ringing closes in your
Ears know that I hold back the gates of madness. One lock holding together
Your fabricated control. But you do not hold control - I do. Can
You not see what is in store for you? I shall plunge you down the rabbit
Hole and show you what real madness is. Expose you to the types of horror
That not even criminally psychotic sociopaths could dare think of.

I shall douse you in insanity and leave you to die in the pits of
A reality that you could never hope to uphold. I shall drag you into the
City, and leave you to wither. But he shall never come, because even death
Knows what goes on in my sanctum. It is hopeless. I am your god. And you're
Nothing more than a pawn at the end of my hand. A toy I may or may not grow
Bored of, and leave in the rotting pits of proverbial damnation.

Fear me, if you may. But know that I hold the cards.
Give me respect, and I may let you live free. Show me
Cowardice, and I'll drag you into the darkness that not even
The abyss can hold a light to. For I am a memory keeper. And
I hold the damnable soul.