Syrene

Hello again, Syrene.

Last time I saw you
was in the mirror,
as a literal
ghost of your own past.

Come speak with me, Syrene.

I know you’re merely
an apparition,
and such fantasies
are never to last.

Nothing changes, Syrene.

The blind lead the ignorant,
and every extreme clashes-
but I’m told the cause of your death
can be pinned on social classes.

You were correct, Syrene.

Nobody can see
their own folly
or at least
admit
to a fault
so simple as
apathy.

Don’t leave me here, Syrene.

I haven’t found anyone
who understands the meaning
and the implications of
idealism like you do-

If what I see is what I believe in,
then I’ve lost every piece of evidence
proving that you have ever existed,
and everything I now perceive is new.

Essentially, Syrene-

We apply fantasy
to our reality
without ever knowing,
because we are meant to.

In my own mind, Syrene,
nobody knows it but you.