Nothing is what it appears,
A fact consecrated
In my mind.

I desire to believe
In fairytales and
Hidden worlds.

Be it not for the lesson
Following each mortal man,
In the crushing black of life:

Not every heartache
Is meant to be fixed
With a wave of magic wands.

Or tucked away into closets
Hiding from ghosts
And monsters buried within.

“Life is not fair,”
Never sounding truer within the
Depths of a broken-hearted puddle.