These characters.
They breed in my lonely needy mind, and from my soul i grant them being.
They're my unventured grounds, my limitless possibilities.
My rise and my demise.
They're exactly what i make out of them.
I'm exactly what they make out of me.
And we count on each other to keep this delicate balance at check.
Take just one out of the equation and both our respective worlds would come tumbling down.
Cripples, we are.
I hold their hands in parks and funerals and football games.
We make eye contact.
We sweat and we bleed together.
But it's all make-belief.
They're not really here.
They're not really happening.
Nor am i to them.....
Think.
I'm not God, but i'm feeling very mischievous tonight!
Labels: Tales Of The Butterfly
