I can hear it.
A woman calls my name
A child cries in pain
Unknown friends encourage me
It's not real.
I can see it.
The ground cracks and shifts
The shadows dance with the moon
People vanish before me
It can't be real.
I can feel it
I felt their hands
I felt their pain
I feel them breath
So is it real?
I can keep questioning.
Asking myself over and over
did that actually happen
Second-guessing every sense
Asking if it's real or...
I can assume.
That chair is real
That voice is real
That hand was real
It has to be real
So it is
About the Creator
Varian Moyer
Hello all! I am a 24-year-old writer. I live in Oregon and so far have only posted Poetry here, though I do write fiction stories of varying lengths. Hope you enjoy what you read, and thanks for the support.
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