People come in types
They all look the same
Patterns swirl within larger patterns
A glitch is hard to see
Unless you watch so carefully
Isn’t this like a movie?
Repelling and then so much attraction
A video game, but one that stars me?
Do you think I paid to take this ride?
To do stuff or maybe hide out
For a rainy day or two
From that otherworld – the dream I dream
Which is real. Which not. A real mystery
Am I just a distraction for the other me
The one that’s more real than real?
The Godlike creator, player, actor
That struts his stuff on this matrix’d stage
Do you think I really have history?
Or am I just living for a day
Programmed context for an away day
To sleep is to return from whence I came
It really is just a video game.
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