‘Reality’ is an empty promise

A word manufactured and fitted

To address this infectious disease

Us humans call life

Because material items,

Deeply rooted beliefs,

And honest emotions,

Only exist within our heads

And if my perception were to be so askew

As to deem myself dead

Then I’m living in the 7th ring of hell

We are fragments of projected images

A wasteland for forgotten dreams,

Useless prototypes,

From the stars that shine in our imaginary minds

We are just fragments of a masterpiece

That we cannot even see