what is this?
a hologram;
a joke,
an experiment,
a treachery.
is this hard, cold wall
that i am leaning on
even real?
it doesn't matter.
you're not real.
you're here
but you're not,
you never were,
you're a ghost passing through,
the only affect you cause
is a shiver sent down my spine
that lasts for merely a second.
and as i take my last breath
and my mind is overflowing with the real knowledge of everything,
i know.
this is a hologram;
a joke,
an experiment,
a treachery.
the wall that i am leaning on
is not hard or cold,
nor is it real.
and it doesn't matter,
nothing is real,
but everything is real.
we must choose,
but we are given no choice.
as my last breath draws to a close,
i look up through the nonexistent roof
and grin an evil grin.
another plot twist in your petty little show.
you sick bastards.
