Who am I and what is real?
Disturbed to type
Disturbing, yes, it is.
Courageous it may be, to admit.
Ive lost a sense of reality,
I fear I may never get back
A distant memory.
The time before.
Before time vanished.
I remember being well rooted in this reality.
Realize that this is fake
Sanity was always a figment of my imagination.
It is also relief
Deep down, I know some truth
Where do I begin
Where do I end
“I” do nothing
This is not “me”
Envelop my mind
Bring the peace that is
Two worlds, overlapping, or one
I cannot tell
The I cannot but the “I” knows
A soul that vibrates its form
Form that cries
Life
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