the unreal

I don't like this.

It looks the same as it's always looked, but hollow. The substance is gone and there's just a shell. The spirit has vanished and there's only a corpse left. How can something I've seen all my life look so unfamiliar?

Out of the deep have I called unto Thee, O Lord.

The light is too bright, but it's dark at the same time. My eyes don't work right, everything's glaring and foggy. This isn't right.

Lord, hear my voice.

Don't talk to me! You puppets, you doll-people with your empty eyes and cacophonous voices.

Let Thine ears be attentive to the voice of of my supplications.

Don't touch me! What if you're not real? You don't look real.

I wait for the Lord, my soul doth wait.

I feel hollow too. Am I awake, or has it always been like this, this dread, this shadow?

My soul waiteth for the Lord, more than they that watch for the morning.

Lord, hear my voice.