*Weapon of Mass Destruction*(un-edited)

I need a weapon of mass destruction
I have to cut it down
Cut down this force that holds me
That wakes me every day
A force that brings out a smile
On a face that only knows sorrow
All I see are people blinded by this force
Masked from truth and reality
The reality I live in
For some travel in the clouds
I am the reeds of ancient Egyptian paper
Ripped, torn, and beaten into a pulp
Then flatten, pressed, and glued
Stuck in this ribbon pattern
Overlapping cross, with no set direction
This land is an ant farm
It is a lab maze
And I live with the mice
In this rat race to the cheese

I.
The walls are covered with Graffiti
Like the walls of the (cave man replace with real word) caves
And staring into the sky
I am brought to tears
Not tears of pain or tears of sorrow
For I have found my weapon
I lean against the hard brick
Between these stylized text
I would say good bye
But my mother always told me
“Don’t talk with your mouth full!”
And as this hammer falls down
I paint the walls of this paper

II.
The walls are closing in
Like a booby-trap in an old temple
Staring into this empty chamber
I am brought to tears
Not tears of pain, or sorrow
For I have found my weapon
I lean over this sink
Between a toilet and tub
Stuck in this decaying matter
That I am becoming part of
As these tablets make it to there destination
They are broken down by acid
The paper is now jaded

III.
The walls are dark and desaturated
Like the moon is covering the sun
Living in dissolution and confusion
As I stair into the darkness
I am brought to tears
Not tears of pain or sorrow
For I have found my weapon
As I lay on the floor cold and shaking
Naked and shackled
The metal reflects my face
And moves swiftly
Like it was sliding in warm butter
The paper is dripped with red

IV.
All these walls they look the same
Like I am suck between the carbon layers
Of a legal document
Stained with a coffee ring
As I stair into the mirror
I am brought to tears
Tears not of pain or sorrow
For I have found my weapon
I stand on my tip-toes
The word seems small
So distant and vague
And as I kick out the chair and this knot tightens
The paper will never be the same