Emptiness

Maybe it’s just me, but sometimes I feel like
I already lived everything without truly living at all.

I had this conversation with myself, with my beloveds late at night as well,
about this strange and quiet emptiness,we somehow knew, but could not tell.

I watched the oceans through a screen before I ever touched the waves.
I heard the crowd, the songs, the screams before I stood where memory stays.
I saw the mountains dressed in gold through filtered skies and borrowed eyes,
and somehow every story told arrived before my own could rise.
Now when real life softly calls, it echoes weaker than before.
The moment comes, but something small inside me does not feel it more.

Not because the world grew dull, not because the stars lost flame,
but because my mind is full of copies wearing life’s own name.
Maybe I scrolled too far through life before I learned to live my own.
Maybe the soul was never meant to carry this much of the unknown.

And maybe that is why I ache while doing little, seeing all
feeling exhausted, wide awake, somewhere beneath the endless scroll.
If moments no longer shake my soul, if joy no longer moves through me,
then somewhere deep beneath it all, am I still the person I used to be?