Aware

I’d rather be dead Than be half aware I desire ignorance More than a blank stare. I try to feel with numb fingers I try to see through cataracts No taste, no smell where I be Nothing to hear through the wax. But why do I know this? To what purpose am I aware Of my dead senses Should I care? Can I awaken from this sleep? Can I open my eyes and listen? Or will I forever be aware That I am not aware?

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