What is real?
I don't want to play a game.
There is so much here that is
fantasy, fiction, manufactured, lies.
I don't want to give in,
but how can I escape?
Am I too afraid to try?
As miserable as it sometimes seems,
I am comfortable here.
As discontent as I become,
it feel secure.
I'd like to break out—
is there any hope?
Or am I alone left to cope?