White Wall

I lay in my room, staring at a white wall, wondering if this is my last sight.

I stare at this white wall, blank and boring, yet filled with wonder.

This white wall encloses me.

I’m surrounded. No way out. No escape

I wonder if this is real, if I’m real.

What if this white wall is fake?

Something I created in my own mind to protect myself.

To give myself barriers. To set my own limits.

What if I’m just a thought made in someone else’s head.

Just a vision. Fake.

This may be my last thought. My last Idea. No one know.

No one comprehends the bigger picture.

Everyone tries to create an idealistic belief of reason they’re alive.

Some decide to commit their life to an overpowering being that may or may not exist.

Devoting their life to faith. To a religion passed on through generations.

I’m devoted to a life filled with questions that will never be answered.

To a like filled with the unknown.

To a life with a white wall, so blank and boring, yet filled with wonder.

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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