Escape

A poem about questioning one's own reality.

My soul's escaping

use the same words in a different context

we're not the person who made the word

didn't write the definition

all of our thoughts, all of our lives...

a felony. Plagiarism is only part of what we did wrong

We fell in love.

Love, a term used by so many, a world of cliches, ifs, buts, and thens

We're not original, I've felt this before, and I'm feeling it now

We hated someone.

What is hate? Why is it real?

We use a dirty word for a dirty cause.

A rumor whispers on our lips, and it begins again.

Haven't we heard these words a million times before, can't we use them again?

Good and bad. Evil and Pure.

Perspective of a diseased mind. What's diseased and how do we find the cure?

A cure.

How can we cure a symptom that doesn't exist?

90 percent of us is a lie by atoms, EMPTY SPACE, so how can our symptoms, our pains, be real?

I'm not real. I'm an ultimate lie.

These words...no matter, can't be destroyed because they DON'T EXIST.

I exist. I know it, I feel me feeling, I know me knowing!

It's a damaged package, I lied, because I thought I was somebody.

I'm 10 percent of somebody, and I can't be put back together.

It's time.

My soul is escaping

Reviews

[rnuff]

goodness, deep and intriguing. Nicely written and thought out.

[Mylifeinheartbeats]

Thank you very much, dear!