I take the pictures to know that I am there..
I noticed that a couple of them,
I can see right through me.
Am I really there?
Am I here?
Am I anywhere?
Was I ever?
Maybe it was all an illusion.
When did I become there?
When did my soul leave my body?
I know it did, I know it’s gone…
Sometimes in the night,
I reach into my sight,
And see that I am gone,
Lost and forlorn,
Just far from me,
Far from the world,
Just hiding, in this box with the fake air blowing the fake cool around,
So little is left,
So little inside,
And now I must go back outside,
To run and hide,
To do my duty,
To help those that are still here but not too.
Why do we look up to the sky and see it as real?
Why do we think that the hunger will be filled by these vagaries?