A certain melancholic feel to it all.
I only wish I didn't feel this small.
I find myself waking up
from this fragment of my imagination.
Is it real, is it pretend,
is it a mere delusion?
I like it there,my dreams,
it's much more real.
It's fiction, perhaps based on a lie
but it's something I can deal.
I wake up to reality,
they tell me, I'm mad.
To be dreaming of the impossible,
is that I can't handle reality's facts.
But why dream of the possible(s),
when you are reachable to the impossible(s)?
Do you doubt, are you afraid
because reality tells you it's unreasonable?
So I keep finding myself
falling into wonderland.
Is it real or is it pretend?