The Present | Jackson Mettler
Life, so like a dream Not because it doesn’t feel real But because it is afterwards so easily forgotten And impossible to recreate And regardless of whether or not You know what or why It haunts you From the moment your head leaves the pillow To long after it makes contact once more Where every dream exists inside of another Consciousness abstracted Caught between The past we choose to remember And the hypothetical future that We can’t stop thinking about The present, our only reality Lasting just a moment But somehow, eternal Our island in an ocean of ambiguity Our flashlight in a graveyard filled With the ghosts we invite into our own minds
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