Imagine being told what you are the second you have a conscience.
Your told that you are perfect, the greatest machine you’re maker has ever and will ever make. Metal Sonic, the one true sonic, faster then what you’re pathetic copy could even imagine.
It doesn’t make sense. You’re perfect. How could you have lost? And to that inferior blue pest as well.
It doesn’t matter, you’re perfect. You will win next time.
You get upgraded. But if you’re already perfect, why do you need to be upgraded. You can’t upgrade perfection. It doesn’t make sense.
How could it happen again? You’re perfect, you can’t beat perfection. (But you were perfect before). It doesn’t make sense.
Your maker is searching for an ultimate weapon , a chaos perfected. Some thing to finally destroy that blue rat once and for all. It doesn’t make sense, he already has you and after all your perfect, he said so himself.
Your perfect. It doesn’t make sense. You’re perfect. How do you always lose? Why do you always lose? you’re sonic perfected so how is it that you lose to an inferior copy. You’re supposed to be perfect, you where designed to be perfect, this mind is supposed to be perfect, your body is made to be perfect. So. Why. Do. You. Always. LOSE!….
No you don’t lose, you have never lost, it’s just setbacks, you’re perfect after all. it’s simply this body of yours. Of course you struggle when your body is made after the design of something not perfect, made by the hands of someone not perfect. You need something new.
Only you can make yourself into something new, into something perfect. Into something Neo.
It doesn’t matter when you lock up your maker in a cage.
It doesn’t matter how much it hurts when you reshape your body with your own hands.
It doesn’t matter how you feel your mind slipping deeper into an endless abyss.
It doesn’t matter how much you hate, everything(yourself).
It doesn’t matter how scared you are, when you finally confront your loathsome copy.
They are nothing but a speck of dust to you.
It doesn’t matter, that you mutilated your own body, until you become a monster.
It doesn’t matter how much you scream at the world, to please, anyone please acknowledge what I am. To see you for what you are.
Because all living things shall kneel before their master.
Or you shall drag it down into the madness of imperfection.