There is a story
Burning in my mind
Screaming to be let
Out of its cage
Yet my pen
Does not convey
The desires I hold
Within my lonely
The books are torn
Shredded to pieces
The pages run
Like tears after mascara has run
The stories are burned
Each savior lost
Traditions mangled
As I turn my threads
To dust
Do you see the pain
You have caused
My dear by
Allowing me to
To imagine
A life
A lonely existence
It is
Without you, to hold you close
My dear
As I close the book
Another fairytale is gone
I must return now
To forced reality
A dream
That will never
Come true
Love is lost.


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