Laughing at Myself

If there is nothing real,

Nothing is what I give.

If there is the ghost of real,

I take the seeds, that with my hands

Bloom into the ghost of something

 

And when my little ghost decides 

The ticking of the clock is real

It dances to the rythm,

I can feel that strong appeal

 

But do you know

The ghost of time is laughing

And do you know

To know at all means you will never learn

 

My hands are real,

Almost.

My words are real,

Almost.

 

I feel that i am standing by

Laughing at myself

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