The endless parade
of emotional shades
pulled down on my face
is starting to fade.
Their feelings are real, why pretend they're not?
I've been emptied out
and jetted out
so how didn't they know
I was already out.
If feelings are real, why are mine not?
I am an empty vessel
of misery and deso-
late worrisome troubles
that can't be resolved.
Who knows what's real? I am not.
-
Author:
Christina K (
Offline) - Published: February 15th, 2018 22:50
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
Offline)
Comments1
People all through the ages have grappled with that exact question. What is real? When I touch something, it feels real, but it is all vibration.
Very well written poem with a deep deep question that I think is impossible to answer.
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