Disconnected

The world's a reflection, reflecting only the world
An untouchable glass, existence unfurled
Layers or reality, each as fake as another
I'll go either direction, for one is the other

I reach out to you as you reach out to me
But the connection we make is impossible to see
Or taste or touch or smell or hear
Yet I'll taste the solitude and smell my own fear

Still I can't cry my tears, for my tears are too real
An identifying marker for myself which I'd feel
So forms, nonexistent, prevent their escape
But in order just to feel I'll scratch and I'll scrape

On the walls that block nothing, that aren't even there
For to scrape even nothing at least shows that I care
About the existence of something, the existence of you
How I want oh so badly for love to be true

And for truth to be good and that good be divine
To breathe sounds when I walk, to touch gold when I dine
But of all of my torments, none feel worse that this
Than to feel all alone, even while we still kiss

The End

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