Hiding Myself
Life is easy to a lover of books
reality slips away
no matter how dreary everything looks
the stories can brighten the day.
But I need no pages to make my egress
from life's daily drama
I switch off my mind so my thoughts can digress
from the bitterness and the trauma.
I can make up stories in my head
to get me through each day
I know perhaps that might sound sad
but it works in every way.
Fairy tales and adventures, and stories of love
my imagination works away
characters of beauty, angels from above
whole fantasies played in a day.
Maybe it sounds like I have no life
well I do, but perhaps I don't want it
I give my normality as a tithe
in exchange for the stories that haunt it.
But I'm hiding, I know, from the truth
of a life that is just so mundane
though I would give my eye tooth
just to liven it up all the same
perhaps if I focused on real life instead
my life would form some direction
if the mist could clear from around my head
instead of trying to be my protection.
If I write my stories on paper
they seem so childish and immature
when in my mind's cloudy vapour
they held quite an exciting allure.
Oh, whatever, I'll just keep dreaming
my life has no point anyway
my stories will go on forever
until my life slips away.
Copyright © Marchioness Of Mock Turtles | Year Posted 2007
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