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Imagination's Wrath
An evil spirit hanging low, where comfort lies that we all know
 A simple escape from a world so strange, is the lovely pleasures of a secret path.
 A tempting life in a world divine, a restring retreat in a place so fine, 
 So uniquely perfect, it could only be mine, this world, so unknown that a grudge it hath.
 And too rarely seen, is imaginations wrath.
 
 I hold with truth though tempest reigns, where one enjoys the lack of pains
 And gets lost within their mind, simply searching for a grin.
 Perhaps a ballroom so exquisite or an old friend who comes to visit
 The desires of a lifetime, no reality fits it, though there is a monster lurking within
 Waiting for a fluke, a mistake, a sin.
 
 For once these thoughts are spread so wide, deepest fears find reason to hide,
 And still the host is lost in thoughts of better times they may desire
 For in the real world, they’re left frozen, for pretentious life they’ve chosen,
 Lured in by the reddest roses left by lovers near the fire
 Forgetting obligations prior
 
 And in this world, there are no clocks, for time is gone as water over rocks
 And a distant ticking is never once heard, for in the real world, time still goes on
 And while the hands are rapidly moving, hands of the thinker are hardly approving
 For ‘tis their job that the monster’s removing all through the night and into the dawn
 With images of beauty floating free, as a swan
 
 Movement, voices, the world reaches out, conscious minds are walking about
 Though, still in thought, the victim is hopeless. Nothing outside, their concentration, can break
 So relaxed, yet focused, their mind conquers all; their body is falling the mind it will stall,
 Imaginations forced logic to slow to a crawl, now all of reality will become what is fake
 And the thinker is still sleeping, though soon, it will wake
 To fight for the mind, back, it may take.

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