As I start my day of redundant chores,
I think about my reality and realize I’m bored.
What is this world that consumes my life?
It’s depressing and dim; as dull as a butter knife.
Every day I wake up, and what greets me first thing?
The same reality as before; that day after day brings.
So I sharpen my pencil to sit down and write.
Each word sings a note; to new worlds, it shines light.
I create and explore these new worlds with pride.
Every character speaks to me and tells me their side.
An adventure, a journey, a means to break free-
A chance to live dreams that in this world, will never be.
Story after story, I play God’s hand-
Watching my children grow-
Seeing if they fall or flourish in their new land.
I’ll lose myself to my written worlds in play.
And lifting me up- my characters beg me to stay.
Though I must always depart at the end of the day,
And live in this reality that is mine-
I know in my heart that my worlds are still there,
Just waiting for the right time.
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