You live two lives, two worlds.
In one, you are a warrior, a fighter; in the other you are passive.
You are on top of the world; in the other you flounder along.
You achieve whatever you set out for; in the other you are helpless.
You are surrounded by magic; in the other you are swept over with unforgiving reality.

You live two lives, two worlds.
One is a fiction; the other a fact.
One is empowering; the other is degrading.
One is a wish; the other is what you were given.

You live two lives, two worlds.
You live in one.
That is all.
This harsh reality whips you across the face.
You are subject only to this world.
This world is a fact; the other world is a fiction.
This you know.
You don't live in two worlds. You only wish to.

You live two lives? Two worlds?
There is a wall.
A wall of brick, a wall of stone.
A wall of fear, a wall of bone.
A wall of darkness, anger prone.
There are two worlds but you can't cross both.

You live.
Separated by a wall.
But it is not a wall of brick, fear, bone, or darkness.
It is a wall of denial.
Denial of yourself.
Denial of your world.
Denial of who you are.

You live.
Not really, but you try.
You hope.
You face that wall.
You stare it in it's swirling ebony face, and you don't back down.
You push back against that denial.
You tell yourself, "I will do this."
You don't tell yourself, "I can."
You tell yourself, "I. Will."

You live one life, one world.
But you don't despair.
You keep pushing at that wall, vying to leave this world and enter the other.
And you never will.


You will never leave this world, it's horror's and struggles,
But the more you push,
The more you fight back,
The more you stand up,
The more you bring that other world to you.

And that is all that really mattered in the first place.