Discussion in 'Poet's Corner' started by Kurai, Jan 2, 2012.

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  1. Kurai

    Kurai Active Member

    Don't know what this is, not a song. Typed it mostly in a trance, the isomnia is worse than any drug.

    Our illusions are what make us real.
    Mine are gone now...
    Nothing but a bitter husk of existence.
    Lines blurred between fantasy and reality,
    Nightmares and peace.

    Crying out for a saviour,
    Dying to be loved,
    Dying from no love.
    To be held, to hold.
    But what of that is real?

    We live the lie,
    So that we can see the truth.
    Our beliefs keep our balance,
    Regardless of substance.
    Without them we crumble in chaos.

    Lost in the chaos now,
    Gravel in a stone-chip sea.
    Without the lies the truth cuts,
    Scarring like any blade...
    Still... what of that is real?
  2. Lizzy95

    Lizzy95 Member

    I really relate to what you are saying here, it's hard to tell what is real. We have no way of knowing.
  3. ThinkingCap

    ThinkingCap Well-Known Member

    Thanks for posting this, I'd never thought to ask 'what of that is real?' I'd always phrased it differently in my mind, but it's the same question all the same. Hope you got some sleep.
  4. Kurai

    Kurai Active Member

    Humanity is constantly searching for purpose and meaning, it's the question asked by religious practitioners and philosophers. Unfortunatly most meaning in life is conjured up by the person who wants to have meaning. I'm not quite satisfied by that...

    Still quite an insomniac but the lack of sleep seems to be bringing in a slight manic high rather than a deppressive low for now. :)
  5. ItsOkayEllijah

    ItsOkayEllijah Well-Known Member

    I enjoyed reading this. :)
  6. Kurai

    Kurai Active Member

    I'm glad. Writing is one of the few things I get right. :)
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