Finally Living

Disastrously advantageous is the world we live in. Being both beautiful yet ugly. Sucking life from our already feeble, minuscule, and complex minds and bodies. It's pathetic. Can a race so enlightened in the knowledge of the dark shadows that creep forward from hollow stones of technologies shores hold so much might and power merely chipped to reveal a taunting vision of the underlying truth. No. Rubbish. Impossible is the only word suited to describe such an absurd scene; it is such a word categorized with reality; it is but imagination, a dream of a dream of a dream too ridiculous to go on any longer. But the only way I know and can tell the validity and integrity of truth from fiction is by seeing it; by hearing it; by feeling it. Yes, my dream within a dream within a dream glares in my eyes, rings in my ears, and burns in my flesh. By definition it is more real than anything I have ever experienced, why, in my current reality where other beings can confirm my existence, I walk and wonder unnoticed, thus invisible and seeing nothing but darkness, hearing nothing but the rambunctious screams of the silence, feeling nothing but the unbearable pain and uneasiness of everlasting numbness. So I feel without feeling. So I live without living. So it would be a sad tale to live a tale of reality. No. My reality will be my dream within a dream, within a dream. Yes, my dream within a dream within a dream is my reality. Finally, bliss, tears, beauty; finally, truth knowledge enlightenment; finally, smile, scream, run; finally happy; finally free; finally...

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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