M-I-C-K-E-Y V-A-D-E-R

Welcome to the clubhouse cult house Death Star.
Come inside, there's death inside.
Here we see things in white and black, good and evil, light and dark.
I used to agree.
Now I'm not sure who I am any more.

See, I used to go by Anakin Willie a different name.
And maybe I stood for something different,
Something good,                           or maybe it was bad
         (depends on which side you're on, I suppose)

I'd say it all goes back to my parents creator father
which I never truly knew.
But when tragedy strikes it changes you.

I became something new,
     something bigger, better,
          something stronger, more influential,
                                                     more powerful.
I metamorphosed.
Became a leader with mindless followers.

That was before.
Like I said, I don't know who I am any more.

On the outside there is one thing,
But that isn't who I am,
     only who they crafted me to be.
It's a facade,
     a mask,
          a shell for a company an Empire, and their want for consumption.
That's not me.
Not really.

Past the mask,
past the voice everyone knows,
          between the lines
there is more.

Beyond the shackles of the onyx and the crimson
there are colors hidden within me,
shades of who I was,
          shades of who I want to be,
desperately wanting to come out.

Because I'm not a vessel for what they want me to be
     -what they poked
          and prodded
               and shaped me into.
I am not what they created.
Even though that's what will live on.

But I will never die.
Not really.

I will keep transforming.
And that leads to fear anger suffering Hope.
A glimmer of hope
reminding me I'm not as colorless as I used to be.

Artwork compliments of Alias Rahimi