my time

am i dead? or am i breathing? am i stuck within a maze? am i lying? am i sleeping? i've been lying here for days? feel my head; is it pounding? on the ground i hear my name. am i crying? am i keeping, or decaying in my shame? in every breath i am trying to sustain what i have kept. i see the tower, up above, from which i've clearly leapt. i feel death. i am dying. everything's becoming real. i've spent hours, eyes wide open, trying to say just how i feel.