real is life is unappealing
so i lose myself in the grips of imaginary
things that compel me like magic: music, literature, television
i close my eyes and let the music play in my head and my mind is consumed by thoughts of
tall medieval castles with sky ceilings
warm green fields on a foreign planet
a shiny gold castle where women in elegant flowing dresses reside
black scaled dragons flying through blue skies
it feels like total bliss and euphoria
but then it becomes longing and melancholy
i desire for the fairytales to become real
but in the end
all those stories
all those places
all those people
they were just words on paper
i realize that they are fake,
but they are my only escape
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