REALITY
Is I've never been myself even with myself.
Is I don't even know who I am.
Is that I lie but don't know what it is.
Is that I'm a walking cliche'.
Is that I question Questions.
Is that I live through writings no one will read.
Is I am a coward.
That I have a thousand masks, each stolen from someone else.
Reality is I don't want to die alone.
Is I don't know how to ask for help.
Is I'm still a terrified boy Snug in his eggshelled world of fantasy wishing it would all go away longing for the warmth of one last embrace of a woman he never knew.