Remembering Reality, Remembering Myself

If I tune out all the noise, can I hear the truth?

Photo by Isaac Weatherly from Pexels

Liquid pouring on my wrists,
rubbing it in my hand,
A fix for my face,
no remedy for the soul.

Cobwebs in my eyes,
distorting my field of vision,
Remove them, tear them off,
my palms are empty.

Look at a mirror,
stare at the reflection,
Everything is clear,
but can’t focus for long.

Lights in the sky,
the red glow of pollution,
Shush, squint your eyes,
pretend it’s Aurora.

Living in a minefield,
another piece of shit town.
False promises of eternity,
of immortality and impact.

Where reality ceases to exist,
and dreams go to die.

Filtered faces, filtered voices,
fake views, and dummy connections.
They choose to live in a delusion,
never question, constantly reinforce,
Forever blind.

Left alone in a bubble,
cast aside to ponder,
Am I the one who is imagining things?

Wanting to break free,
show them what is what.
Or sink in complete darkness,
shut the doors, lock it up,
Remain in eternal solitude.

Some days I can’t tell,
Which one I want more.

The thoughts in my head
are not here,
They refuse to be here.

Bring them back,
fight hard for control,
Remind them of your position,
the only one that matters.

Then fly away, soar above,
as you are free like no other.
No shackles of doubt
or heavy-duty materials to bind.

Bring me back my thoughts,
some meaning, and perspective.
A little purpose or hope,
perhaps some will to go on.

Remind me again,
When no one believes me,
When no one agrees,
When they think me weird.

That you are here, for me,
my guiding light.

For 27 years, I lived somebody else’s life. Now reclaiming what is rightfully mine, one story at a time. Support me: https://ko-fi.com/debduttapal90

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