Disoriented

Someday the time may come, when I, no longer able to distinguish the line between reality and nonentity, will accept the illusions and leave behind this materialistic world. Could you pull me back if I slipped away? Would you catch me if I ever fell? Can you clear my mind of this mess that it holds? And prove to me that the earth is still spinning? For I am lost already, and fearing the absence, of the existence of a return home.I look around to this room of clay and plastic,and I wonder if I hold a pulse. 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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