I really don't know when this is going to end

I wish that fiction was reality in this dreamed up practicality

This practicality that I just so badly want to find a way past

To wave goodbye and never see it last

But this old shamans curse is not meant to go away

Because fiction is meant to stay

Stay in our minds eye until it haunts us to no end

Because harpy, this is that pen that you lend

Lend to so many men mesmerized by your song

That song that is killing me as I try not to sway

But I’m swaying from this position that is so crucial to hold safe

And it’s putting me at bay to look at this ship wreck that is on display

Displaying me in this time that we agreed would be shielded from emotions

These emotions that are causing me to check my back like a soldier in Vietnam

That soldier not knowing where his enemy is hiding

Not knowing if there is a land mine below his next shuddered footstep

And what I told myself wouldn’t happen is happening like the 4thof July

I’m trying to hold myself together, I really am

But if this fireworks show is going to blow my nicely mapped out game of charades

This game of charades that I play every time we coincide

Than I’ve lied

Lied to you and me

Telling you and me that this could work

Because really harpy, in this perfect fictional story book

Fiction is reality

The End

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