I feel like a teen kid,

In a dystopian film.

Nothing really makes sense.

I’m alone with a weapon,

So this means I’m the hero.

In a male-dominated political system,

I should fight till my last breath,

Bleed till the last drop,

Witness all my friends die.

But I have no time to grieve,

I need to cross the finish line.

Is this all in my head?

Is it the pain in my body?

Or the open wounds on my skin talking?

Is this world even real?

Or is it all in my loud head?

What if,

I stopped breathing on purpose,

Would I

Finally feel okay?

What if,

I removed the parachute while flying,

Would I

Finally be released from these chains?

What if,

I stopped swimming,

Would I

Go further down or float on the surface?

What if,

I peeled off my skin,

Would I

Be able to make the pain go away?

What if,

I’m part of a simulation,

Would they

Pity me and remove the wires?

What if,

Happiness is just an illusion,

Can I

Feel it if I believe it’s real?