False Fantasy

When I am inside reading, All my mind drifts to is how I should be living that story. When I am outside living that story, All my mind drifts to is how someone else has already lived that story. When I read about fantasy, I think I should return to the crude face of reality. When I'm in this crude reality, I think I should let myself indulged into an endless world of fantasy. I strive to swim up to the horrid face of reality, But I sink down into the warm fantasy bliss. In the late evenings of summer, my eyes quanked with exhaustion, I used to tell myself, For every moment you stay awake to dawn in this blissful fantasy, the more you fall into the false reality you create. I often think to myself, Do I truly belong here? But, over the endless fantasy's I get myself lost in, I've come to learn to say thank you, to everyone, and everything I come across, with every breath I take when I wake in the morning, and my last breath before succumbing to a restless slumber. I will be thankful, For when my last breath comes before me. For all the story's I lost myself in, And for all the people I've met. All the things I wrote for myself, friends, and foes. For even a mere moment, I would have felt That I belonged.