My mind questions if I exist,
On the nights when stars sit above in the darkened room.
The days where life is woven on an unknown loom
and on a separate plane; my eyes behold this fabric in their midst.
Such instances I fear, my life is spinning before my eyes
I but an observer to these murmurs of reality
Where the sun swells above like a deity,
I fear days, where my existence is denied.
I think therefore I am; never was there such dismay
When such thoughts should linger; I think but I am not?
And I ponder; to detach myself or wait for life to knot,
where then I can finally bade, Reality away.
The stars are tiny glints in the night skys eye,
mocking the shredded thread by which my life is tied