Um. I like fictional books, but when I was a little younger I completely stopped talking and I only read so this poem is kinda in tribute to that.

-

Fiction turns a simple desire into a burning need, because it brings alive your greatest desires.

It turns your mind to vibrant colors and wraps its iridescent webs around catching you in its cage.

Your mind has never been more free.

But your eyes have never been more devoid of feeling or happiness.

But we still paint on a smile and pose for our audience, thank god they can't tell paints from plastic surgery.

Because you're their doll, and you'd best behave because the moment you stop... they take you to the toy shop, and I don't like it there.

Fiction, why'd you have to ruin me?

Please Fiction tell me why you decided to make me your prey in second grade, because I feel like a fool and no one likes that manipulated feeling of bare skin and your hair on the floor.

A dystopian paradise, I'd never last an hour, so why do I want to go there?!

Fiction, you're the cruelest drug I've ever known, impossible to quit and seemingly so innocent.

But then the pages open, and the smell of new ink fills the empty air.

And my widened eyes, as I take in mages and dragons and thieves and castles and the magic they bind themselves with,

Fiction, comes in too many forms for me to recognize, a master of disguise.

Fear engulfs me, my family becomes worried, I don't speak much to them anymore.

Friends are searching for the same optimistic little girl I used to be hidden in changing eyes.

Fiction release me from your
silver-tongued spell.