Poem – As I

As I look down.
I see hands.

I feel nothing,
not numb,

beyond numb,
nothing at all.

Are these hands mine?

The fingers do not move
as I move through dark,

move through some space
but I do not feel I am moving

I think I am moving.
Is that enough

to define a reality
to define an existence

beyond what I am told
beyond what others see?

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