If I were in a movie,
I’d be stuck in the rain.
But still, I am left
With this Fog in my brain.

I do not know this Fog,
It’s different than my own.
I’m uncomfortable where I am,
In this body I called home. 

I hate this feeling in my mind,
I hope it does not stay.
Others talk to Fake Me,
The Real one is away.

I am not a puppet master,
I don’t know how to do this.
I try to control their body,
I’m clumsy with these sticks.

I’m not derealizing, I know.
This is not nearly the same.
I do not know the controls
Or how to play this game.

But yet I must go on,
It would be easier to leave.
So I will continue to struggle,
And wait for my reprieve.