Disillusionment strikes like a snake in the grass. As i am bitten it's poison starts to seep into my veins and my mind begins to ponder about my creator again. Maybe i was created from a page in a book, or a song that was sung. Wherever i came from it must have been long long ago. I can feel the antiquity in my soul. Maybe theres a hint of my name or face written somewhere in stone. Or in a story that begins once upon a time and ends in.... the end.