The destination seemingly far, yet patiently it awaits,
Your abilitly to alter the stories opens for you many gates.
Dance with your shoulders back, and sporting a perfectly painted smile.
Hearts so broken as all the lies start to compile,
You chase away your racing thoughts as you struggle to deal,
To find a place where this frantic world remains still,
As you slip into a different realm that is ever more real,
The place discovered only by the people with the strength to feel.
Not those who run from the hurt or credit the lies as truth.
Or the ones who hold desperately onto their youth.
But the ones who face this emotion,
That address the conflict, the sorrow, the commotion,
And take from it the scars and positive outlooks,
With this knowledge they live out their lives in storybooks.
Constantly setting the moods, escaping into a world within ours.
Eluding concieved confines, restricting bars.
This is so much more than a dream,
And much more ideal it would seem.
The abilitly to conqure the fear within ourselves,
To write the endings to all the favorite dust covered stories stashed upon the shelves.
The ability to look fear in the eyes,
And to recall those unbelievably rattling cries,
To know that you made it through the fire,
And that pain allowed you to aim higher
So begin on a new path.