'' I'm Not Really Dying '' Poem by Bri Mar

Is reality a dream?
Do we even exist?
Is there a being supreme?
On everyone’s list.

Is the Earth but a vision,
A fantasy ideal,
Where there is no excision,
Because nothing is real.

What exactly is living?
If it’s aim is to die,
It is so unforgiving,
Could it all be a lie?

Is a game being played?
By controllers elsewhere,
Should we be dismayed?
That life isn’t fair.

Do we have a say,
Or are we but pawns,
Being forced to obey,
Are we one of their cons?

How will we know,
That we’re really here,
Will it come as a blow,
We're not all we appear.

If this is not real,
Is it all a game,
How will we feel?
No fortune or fame.

It is very confusing,
But there’s no point in crying,
I find it amusing,

‘’ I’m Not Really Dying ‘’