I once dreamed of a place
Skies of red and sand of auburn
Nothing is really there
A lady in a black dress stood by an old windmill
Mourning loneliness
Mourning death
Hair flowing of ebony as she sings her last sweet song
Fate awaits her by the side of the sea

Everything is limited
Life is only a borrowed fantasy
There are no real consequences for our immoral actions
We never existed.
Or did we?

The old man sits alone on a stone
He ponders, “I wonder.”
The rainy days are drawing near
Seems to be never ending….
Almost eternal
Never does the sun shine upon his face
The dreary taste of solitude,
The sudden realization that our lives are worthlessly spent every day, wasted!
Wasted on worthless reality
Maybe there is such thing as too much reality
Maybe there is no “reality”
Nothing seems real
What exactly is “reality”?
Oh, nothing but a word used to describe a petty TV show
With made up characters and a given plot
Sounds familiar?
Nothing is real
What we call “reality” is only fantasy
We are only stuck believing it is real
Thinking otherwise can be dangerous
After all, ignorance is bliss…

This poem was written/submitted by Jakai.