Doesn't Seem Real

White walls hum in a sleepless glow,

Faces blur like a fading show.

They call me wife, they call me mother,

But I feel like I belong to another.

There’s a man with a grin too tight,

Claims he’s sick but he watches at night.

Every shadow feels placed with care,

Like the script was written before I was there.

I don’t know the hands I’m holding,

Don’t know the names they swear are mine.

Curtains close, the silence golden,

But the truth bleeds through the line.

They’re killing them softly, one by one,

In the name of the church, in the name of the sun.

Whispers drift through the blood and the bone,

And I’m trapped in a story I can’t call home.

If I’m your wife, why can’t I feel?

If this is my life, it doesn’t seem real.

Keys rattle like ghosts in the dark,

Another bed gone, another spark.

The doctor smiles with a steady hand,

But I see the cracks he can’t withstand.

Are you savior, or are you jailer?

Are you the reason my thoughts grow paler?

If I had a past, it’s locked away,

Buried deep where the lost ones stay.

They’re killing them softly, one by one,

In the name of the church, in the name of the sun.

Whispers drift through the blood and the bone,

And I’m trapped in a story I can’t call home.

If I’m your wife, why can’t I feel?

If this is my life, it doesn’t seem real.

I wake in white, with names I don’t know,

A ring on my hand, but no place feels like home.

If this is my life, then where have I been?

And who will I be when the truth breaks in?