When reality gets bad,
I like to escape,
I read and write of countries never existed,
about wars in a beautiful landscape.

My mind is thinking only about there,
The responsibilities are never mine,
As I balance between these worlds,
on a very fine line.

Often I have to go back,
To the reality of my life,
Forced by the not-caring people around me,
and I grab my often used knife.

Let me stay there,
when reality gets bad,
There I don't have to deal with myself,
There I don't have to pretend not to be sad,
when reality gets bad.