if everything was nothing

If this was not this Would I reach out my hand? If I was not me maybe I could understand All that we do Each ending a tragedy, Each lie is new Hidden silent in my head Would they become true if I spoke them? This is the question I dread. My imagination takes me to a deserted fair ground All the clowns are laughing at me with sharp teeth All the lions are dead I’m drowning in a glittery mud puddle Of misconception and pretend. And your standing watching, shaking your head.