Today, I am expected to think about my future.
My future education and job
My future family and relationships
My future self and ideals.
And all that jazz.

But what about today?
I could do anything I want.
Be a teenager and be with friends
Have a job and earn a bit for myself.
Stay and Relax
And all that jazz.

And what about tomorrow?
I could be a working girl in society
I could be a teenager without a care in the world
I could be a caretaker to my family
And all that jazz.

Except everyone needs an escape.
Writing stories and poetry is the key to my jail.
It is my freedom to put it all out there on paper
Worries are simply words
Nothing will stop my thoughts.
And all that jazz.

But when I wish to express myself in the world, I am told to be practical.
You will only succeed with a white collar job
You can only be happy with a family and moderately sized house
Your life will be a failure if you don't do something with your life
And all that jazz.

With pen and paper in hand, I take all my hurt and sadness
I create something beautiful with all the ugliness in me
I make a new life in my own world of imagination
Escaping to the paradise of a world who believes in dreams.
And all that jazz.

To writing is to escape
The experience of taking a world and molding it into your own like supple clay
The fears and sorrows erased as easily as a wrong answer
Happiness that is nonexistant in reality is conceive in the world of ink and lead
And all that jazz.

Without the escape, we will continue to live a world of black, white and grey
The reality of a monotonous adult will come closer with each passing moment
The traffic jam of 5 o'clock rush hour will be there Monday through Friday
The frustration of white collar work and human life will weigh down day by day
And all that jazz.

So with the weight of all pressures on my shoulders,
I travel to the newly established life of my own 1920s
The phantom music following my spirit, luring me further into my fabricated reality
The hustle and bustle of the past Chicago taking shape in words and sketches on my paper.
This imagining it different from all the others, but it is still my own.
And all that jazz.

A new universe is born every second in a fantasy.
The question is whether or not you embrace imagination
Taking it by the hand the designing the place you yearn for most
This call to action is to inspire the writer in you
The creator of an uncharted terriorty of your own conception
Invent what you dream of most on the paper in front of you
One day, you will find your own pardise of language 
Because you will be the one who opened the personal jail cell
And all that jazz