She sits,

On the edge of the cliff,

Looking down into the waters below.

She stands,

Looking as if she might jump.

She takes a step,

And just when it seems she may fall,

She soars.

 

Soaring,

High, like a drifting bird.

She has no wings,

It seems she is floating,

As if by magic.

Here lies the beauty,

Of individual realities.

 

Make your own rules,

No one can hold you back.

The normalities of society,

Simply diminished.

Thrown to the wayside.

 

An individual reality,

is an escape,

a place for the mind to travel,

In its weariest state.

 

When people want to travel,

it offers an escape,

An individual’s reality,

is their perfect place.