Everyday I ask myself
What will i have to prove.
Do i have to hang always
Heavy in that perfect imagination?
Is that what my life is for?
Is that the way of life?
Stiff and unchanging.

Where is that place
To hide away from reality?
To cry, without being called weak
To scream, when i feel
Like letting go.
To relieve my heart,
When i cannot bear
The trick of time.

Lonely am I
In this perfect imagination
Lonely and empty.
Accepting the lonely heart.
Surrendering to reality.
If I could, I would leave
This perfect imagination.

As if on wings that gently fan the air,
I am released from this perfect
Imagination, to drift without a care.


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