The Ramblings of an Insane Human Being

Hypothetically Real

A lie...

If no such truth can be held,

then how do I hold her body?

How do I keep her so near to mine?

Still she fades when I open my eyes.

How do I feel her warmth at night?

I feel nothing else in the day, nothing at all,

sharp, cold steel in hand, and yet I can't help but feel

a certain numbness in the crimson water I drink.

Why does she keep my dreams company?

If I’m the killer,

then why is the man in the mirror dead?

Why am I not with her?

I cannot stay with her,

She isn't real and neither am I,

so why can't I bar her from my prison,

where she is the only thing I cannot control?

A lack of actuality can be felt,

my heart melts in her non-existing hands,

her eyes strike through my soul,

her smile cripples my being.

Where am i that I cannot touch her,

yet she molds me to how she sees fit?

My heart races for her,

Yet she stops it with nothing more than a word.

If the question is “does she exist?”

The answer is no,

If the question is “is she real?”

The answer is yes.