I’m scared I’m nothing more than a sham
wearing the shape of a person,
A silhouette cast in doubt
sitting stagnant in the corner of a dark alley
pretending to be real.
I speak in borrowed words
And laugh in borrowed joy
Mimicking the sounds of something real
while my face contorts into
what I think it should be.
I’m not sure I’m real
I’m not even sure
if I know what real feels like.