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
Soul
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
Think
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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