ive always had trouble deciding real from fake.
is his love real?
is my talent real?
the little things.
as my chisel carved into the stone, the illness carved into my mind.
is this house fake?
are these people fake?
nothing to worry about really.
my sculptures began to improve.
is everything fake?
is anything real?
and one day, as i make my final mark with my chisel,
the sculpture utters a word.
YOU ARE READING
My Hallucinatory Masterpeice
PoetryAn anthropology of poems from the perspective of galatea claude, from identity v. This was written by Galatea Claude-Valden, who is an alter in a DID system.
