who am i really?
i don't quite feel like me
like a sentient being.
earlier i cried after
reading a news article
and when i was
wiping my tears
it felt like my face
wasn't even my own.
sometimes my body
moves and i don't
realize.
i feel like a machine
on autopilot.
i move without
conscious thought.
i am not conscious.
quite often
i look around
and i don't feel
like the world is real.
i don't feel like i am
here, living and
breathing and
existing.
i feel like i'm
watching a movie.
like i'm dreaming.
these are all
lovelily twisted
feelings—
to not be alive
to not be real
to not be here.
sometimes i wish i could
feel them all of the time
but there is a catch
the emptiness that comes
with them is overwhelming.
it seeps into my skin
and fills me up entirely
until i feel hollow
and it's inescapable.
please tell me who i am.
the only words that
i can think of
to describe myself
are "empty" and "hollow"
and i don't think either of those
are socially acceptable.
YOU ARE READING
recycled poetry
Поэзия❝i wish i was writing something special, but these words have been used before and there's no originality to it at all. i'm just reusing phrases until they're worn out, like musty library books or hand-me-down clothes.❞ from ❛hand-me-down poetry❜ i...
