Insomnia

Depths Of Mine

You don't know me.

The worlds of magic and wonder I've created. Where the seasons are two.
A land in which unicorns appear before midnight hits. Where flowers that shine and glow shall thrive in my moment of rising. Where things are tasteful and the waters so clear that inside them you get lost in your reflection and you can actually, even for a fragment of a second, love what you are. Voices inside my head speak of this land, where reality isn't that bad after all, and I can look at the stars thinking I'm one of them.

Sometimes however, this land disappears. Weapons from the inside are killing the unicorns. Unpropable as it may sound, those majestic creatures are rotting from the inside. The flowers wither, the waterscapes go dry. Everything is lost in a nothingness of a void, and you may find yourself wandering around in a pitch black darkness, the voice of your footsteps echoing back at you.

But trust me, they're both wonderful places, with so many adventures awaiting those worthy and willing to spend time in them.

And when I realised you've never been there, disaster came. It shook the worlds, both of them coliding into one.

You're not aware of the fictional stories I make. You have never experienced the natural flow of my tongue, the words that would enchant you if you would just listen. You've never heard my voice cracking under the weight of all that I hold dear.

You've never asked of me to give you a passport to my worlds. You've never asked of me to unfold you the greatness of me, to show you what I truly and wholy am, and I doubt you ever will.

And what hurts the most is that, this whole time, I thought you've been to every corner of what really and always shall be me.