1This life?
How do we know that we live, breath, feel?
Is what we see real?
Is my suffering and agony real too?
If what we hear is not real
What are we really saying?
Is what you think you look like
The same way you look towards others?
Is how you feel real or is it an instinct?
A fear that the unknown will swallow you whole
Never leaving a trace that you existed
Because, what if you aren't real?
What if we live in a constant unknown
So we make up our own worlds
Our own thoughts, dreams, sufferings.
What if those aren't real either?
What if what you thought wasn't real, was?
What fears would you behold then?
Would they be real?
Or are we all fake
Living in this unknown
Forever questioning ourselves
Forever questioning this fear of reality.