This is not reality

It is not yours

Or is it?

Looks at all this

Look at yourself

Nothing more than a figment of being

Of imagination?

So everything you know take it 

And savour it

hold it close to your heart and shape and form it

What am I 

And what am I not

In the middle of the night

Two lovers feeding of each other's anger in the evening

The others tightly knit into a embroidered piece of art till deep in the night

Their laughs light and clear as my summer sky

The others dancing through the stars with their beautiful 

And one 

Sitting

Alone

And so lonely

His dear

His death

He misses him

He takes the bottle and forgets

Why is he still here

He hates the way he despises the couples on streets

The lovers in their sheets

The singing of praises 

Of love

But why is his head so heavy when he raises

It up to the stars

He tries and tries and fails to do

What he once had asked of you

But give him a year 

Maybe he will be 

as pr

oud of the couples

As you were of me