Maybe it's time to grow up,
the fantasy world I've been hiding in
is killing me,
there's hardly anything left,
just an empty shell
for a heart
that once beat true and blue,
or did it ever?

I try to convince myself I'm special,
I can do something great
that I'll leave this **** town
and not be as poor as the ***** who raised me,
that I'll be somebody,
that I'll be loved-
I'm not looking for a fairytale
I'm just looking for a way out.

I've spent too much time
cowering in my books
and spells
and Doctors and demon hunters
and wizards
and zombie-slayers
--but it's been so long since
I've written something I could be proud of.
It's been so long since my imagination
has brought me euphoria,
since my eager anticipation
of the impossible
has granted me talent
to write a story
to bring readers to tears...


I guess I'm growing up.
Shaking solemn hands
with a childhood
thats lasted too long.
good.
maybe now I can die.