Poetry

Reality or fantasy, what is life?

We breath, we dream, we live and we go.

Life comes and life goes in a flick to the earth.

Our life is a game of chance but is it really of skill?

Is it played far above us, with us the pawns manipulated by our master?

Are we pieces moved across a board, or cards traded, dealt between the players?

Are our memories implanted or our own creation for us to treasure?

Do we have free will or are we manipulate into thinking we do?

Is this fantasy or is it real?

We play games of war some of peace but are we in one on a much grander scale?

Or are we the experiment? Put here with free will to see how we survive or not?

Is this some kind of virtual reality? What we see seems real but in fact is some kind of lie.

Or is this purgatory? A test, before we are split into heaven or hell?

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