Insanity

Have you walked with cold feet in summer? Have you climbed to the peak of a hollow? Have you tasted food, watered down? Have you felt like laughing while weeping? I still have no idea—who am I? What am I? Am I the real one, or just a picture in my head, A shadow making me do all these things? The more I try to reach the core, The more I’m pushed to the coast. As long as I have myself— Or the version of me that lives inside— I can get along with time. But I can't describe it. I wish I could