Fiction

Dancing in the dark

Allows the caverns of our mind to ignite a spark

Casted runaways created from our solitary hideaways

The pages we pave are of memories of yesterday

We write fiction on the just cause of our mind’s superstitions

Fairytales we create

Yet we are our only witness

The words we sketch are moments we wish to possess

Each a cloud from the sky that we desire to compress

Take this pen with me and we can repent this

We can turn this deserted highway our way

The plot has been casted, climaxed & hooked

Always radiated, yet you overlook

I was just a page in your book