My own

Inside my perception of time
I am nude of what makes me proud .
Bounded faithfully to this my life
By a weak line of sanity and a vague feeling of hope.
In this my perception of time
I once lived .
And still I am living
But yet I am not familiar.
What is stopping me from becoming one with it?
Alone I was
And  still alone I am
But yet I can’t make a reason of it.
What is holding me form going beyond that border.