I stole the relic they did not sell and
Invented a future for them to pretend,
Their decorated intelligence perhaps
Made a habit of wandering with the-
Stories I created, I travelled with them.
I lived in stories, with the characters,
Their adolescence & lovers and their
Whimsical tales drowned my nerves,
I don’t know how pitiful it is to live
With lifeless fonts and their charisma
I did not click pictures of their realism,
I wanted them in all ages with more
Stories, imperfections & inadequacies,
They’ll all disappear or die someday
And I guess life wouldn’t be like stories.