Choice

I live in the world of fantasy

With brazen trees smiling at me

Magicians cutting off hands

(Their white hats wavering in the northern wind)

stars that shine from below

Love that does not exist

teddy bears so rough they hurt

like roses without thorns

while I sit on my hammock

and swing to the death

of my life

I read into the olden books

Relive the history of my past

And Settle down on a hill of hay

That hangs from a cloud

Bullied by the wind,

Translucent sun.

And opaque light

forms a crystal

that rarely falls to the depths of my mind