+ Escapism

Sometimes I choose to believe

The beautiful lies

Instead of the cold brutal truth...

And sometimes I hide

Behind pale green illusions

And immerse myself in rosy daydreams

Built on powder puff foundations...

Sometimes I gaze through

The thin sheet of frosted glass

Which separates my eyes

From the stark reality of it all

That there are no happy endings...

Except in a book of fairy tales.