Sometimes I wonder if my memories
are just dreams.
If they're things I made up;
they didn't happen to me.
If I gave myself years and years of pure dishonesty-
compulsively redeciding what my past should be.
Did all those events, conversations, lies
never even take place,
and how can I be sure?
What if these things I'm remembering
never even occurred?
What if I'm crazy and nobody has told me?
What really happened all these years?
Did I not have to shed all those tears?
Maybe I danced and sang like a little child would-
was the world happy and feel as it should?
Was I taken hostage and never let go?
Am I in this room right now,
or is this just a mind show?
Where am I at,
and where have I been?
Does that affect where I'm going and who I am?