What good is the world
When you could, in theory,
Build your own world from words
If you could craft people from
Punctuation and paragraphs
And make your house with the
Pages of books and the lines of
A song that hums somewhere
Deep your heart
Reality could never measure up
To the home built in your head
Because in your head everything goes
Just the way you wanted it to go
And the characters are just colorful enough
And the sounds are never too loud
And you can crawl between the folds
And the cracks of the pages and the
Bindings of books that are falling apart
And just, for a few moments, turn your back
To the loneliness and the gray dust of reality
The world, with its firm grasp on reality
Is not the only world for minds that work
Gears turn over in your head and the world
Can’t make them stop, so long as you don’t let it
So hold tight to your own fantastical dream
Because it is yours, to hold and to keep