The Fantastical Hidden Asylum

Stories and glories drip from the pages,

Passions and desires breaking out of their cages.

My restless mind no longer fights - 

Storytelling has bewitched the plight.


The mystery's nonstop complexities,

The drama's endless penalties,

The romance's forseen remedies -

These words have a hold on me.


They outlive the grievances of today.

They rise above enemies who dismay.

They keep the mind's thoughts of unworthiness at bay

And into my hopes and dreams they play.

Whether it be word of thought or song,

It creates a feeling that I finally belong.


One may see words on an endless page, 

But I see hope to end my rage.

I see a widespread community

When I have not yet felt unity.

Out of text we may feel alone,

But story gives us a loving new home.


The path to being something more

Is just beyond fantasy's door.

The author's narrative on my side,

I go against evil's stride.

I sing the lyrics I know inside,

An echo of those my thoughts have allied.

The chorus of our hearts never to part,

We grow to leave our mark.

This poem is about: 
My community


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