Undreamed

This is not what I wanted to write.
This is not what I wanted to say.
This is what I have to say.

This was not a whisper; this was a voice of rage:

For if there is doubt turn away.
For if scars from the past begin to bleed, turn away.
For if sacred knowledge has been handed out, turn away.
For if this dream can not be real, turn away.
Pursuing what you have given freely will not make it true.
Do not unlock this door; allow the key to unlock it.
This mirror must not be broken yet.
You have not come this far to allow yourself to be fooled again.
Continue this path, continue to Syn.

These words spoken clearly.
These words not a dream, but a forced message made clear.

Maybe dreams I no longer know. Perhaps I now have all of these answers.
Maybe memories I want to erase shall stop these scars from bleeding.
Maybe death is the final act, for maybe I've already failed.

One thing is certain.
I know this design.
I know its path.
I know how to break it.
Destroy it I shall.