In each of my stories
The world was saved.
Saved by the fiction,
Saved by its magnificent characters,
Unstoppable, heroic, brave.

And all the world's illness
Was reduced to ancient history,
A bad memory floating,
A stain to conflict with a calm future.

But fiction
Is just an impossible reality,
Implausible connections leading
To a deceiving plot.

It is my will
To be the improbable hero
Materialized into words
That shall fail to produce images.

Fiction is an external change
To my internal demands,
Restrained by the boundaries of a page.