what I feel is not that of which is real.
figments are my feelings; fragments of a shattered reality.
how do you decipher reality from a nightmare when they become synchronized ?
tell me, do you think I've lost it ?
gone completely off my rocker?
am I permanently stuck in my nightmares or are they a reality I'm perceptive to ?
why am I the only aware figure here ?
can't you see them ? at the corner of your eye when you make coffee ?
or their voices - mangled words clear as day in your ears ?
do you feel them, the heavy atmosphere and shiver up your arms ?
of course you don't
because you think my imagination has become hyperactive.
maybe this is why they are coming to me - because I acknowledge; I respond with something other than a mumbled, "I'm crazy".
but maybe I want to just be crazy
maybe I don't want it to be real
maybe I want it to stop
maybe I need to stop resisting
maybe I should be afraid
maybe I need to let them in
maybe I should be afraid
maybe I should not be afraid
YOU ARE READING
enigmatic
Poetryen·ig·mat·ic /ˌenəɡˈmadik/ adjective difficult to interpret or understand; mysterious. Just a collection of my shitty writing I like to call poetry. How unfortunate. (I am also rather edgy and depressed here so tw for some people but I promise I'm a...
