The Real World

The real world

What defines real?


Is it what I see now

A land of color

Of swirling trees

Shades of sweet honey and violet moss

Where I speak to the fae

Dancing through the sky

Spinning in a swirl of shades

Where wonderful fruits

Grow out of splodges of thought mulch


Or is the real world

The gray land

The so-called sanatorium

Where no trees grow

The only colors are that of an old photograph seen long ago

Shades of muted gray

Where the walls are barren

And silence sings its everlasting song


They say I am mad

That the colored land

Is only a distant dream

That my favorite reality

Is but a fantasy


That real world

Where everyone is kind

Where food is best

Unlike this cold place

Trapped in a old photograph

The dream world that traps me

In shades of grey

Where they say my real life is a dream


A dream they say

When I go to sleep in my world

I wake up here

So is this all a dream

A nightmare of black and grey

Where I can never escape

Even if I try to never sleep again

In the true world


They say they have a cure

A cure for my madness

They have said this many a time

I wish I had a cure to escape them

But every cure they try

Does nothing but cause pain to my world

Whenever they try

Little pieces fall off

Scraps of my fading world


My colored land

Once so expansive

Is shrinking

Faster then the eye can see

The walls of the grey prison are closing in

On my world of “fantasy”

They have now gotten rid of it all

“Cured me”

So now

When I “go to sleep”

All I see

Are scraps of a forgotten dream

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