Is it real, any of it?

Is a constant reminder and feeling of what was,

Just that,

Only a feeling?

Or is it my warning sign to break now,

Run while I still can,

Or sit and wait for the walls to crumble.

Warning signs, self contempt,

I can no longer tell the difference.

That is terrifying,

Knowledge is power,

Ignorance is bliss.

What do I choose?

Where do I go?

And who can I run to?

What becomes of us when we spend our time,

Thinking of what might be?

And worrying about what could be true.

Lost and alone,

I ask myself these questions.

I always ask myself these questions,

Yet I still have not found an answer.

Frightened, stressed, and unimpressed

I wander through my day,

In a fog.