Only of late

Should it be

That this doubt filling my own

should also surround myself?

 

Is it right to assure myself this?

To afford myself comfort?

Assurance a thousand times familiar

Now cracked and unsure

 

This act of nature

(or against it,

That I should remain sane,)

Should it belong to me,

What carries with this?

 

Lest I become lost I clutch myself

As thine eyes carry lifeless blame.

In the ensuing calmness

I attached myself to the idea of unreality.

For what sake, I've forgotten.

But if this should be a dream,

Is it not still mine?