Virtual Reality Controlled by the Ghosts of Actual Reality – Original Poem

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By Mark A. Leon

I sit alone in every possible way wondering why I am alive
I breathe, I bite, I fight, I feel no plight
I wander in flight to the clouds in the sky
High above the rest thinking this is just a test
Did I pass; did I fail
Did I win or just prevail?

Depression is the soulful grey coloring my dreary world
A mix of white; a dash of blue; some purple while I sniff the glue

A playful melody I hear in the silence
Alone, your mind takes control
A virtual reality controlled by the ghosts of actual reality

The laughter of the devil beckons beyond these walls
You’re still alive he says
As a question or a surprised gesturing comment from the clown king
Patiently he waits
Why not?
He has an eternal clock on his side
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
The migraine deepens the piercing
Fingers on the chalkboard
A million fingers in synchronized gravitational bliss
So deep it bleeds

Delicious blood dripping down my face parting the cuts on my arms with its delicious nectar
What a pleasant surprise
A shower of my deepest inner pain
How apropos
Fitting
A fitting beginning to the inevitable end

Now the laughter has found its way to my soul
An inner chamber of relief released for only my demons to hear
A little patience is all I need

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