(period)

I lived in my imagination.

I construct it with my illusion.

I colour it with my memory.

I lived in my imagination.

I build my own blurry boundaries between what is real and unreal.

I create my own cycle that cannot be determined by time.

I lived in my imagination.

Often pretending to hug a surreal figure.

Embedded my self to my own fantasy land way behind my consciousness.

I lived in my imagination.

Playing in my own sandy box with my imaginary friend.

Singing along with arrhythmic tone.

I lived in my imagination.

Where i can hide in my own treasure box

Bury it and guessing who will found me a decade from now

This is surreal, this is unreal, this is a dream.

should i open this box and going out to retrace the reality?