Escape

Just because I don't cut myself,

Don't open my wrists with a blade.

Doesn't mean that I don't need some kind of beautiful escape.

Because although I laugh

and I dance and I smile,

I also have pain course through my blood for a while.

You cannot see my scars,

Bruises nor burns.

Because I find my escape in other ways.

Ways it doesn't have to hurt.

I lose myself.

In magic, with dragons and demons and beasts.

Fairies, that carry out miraculous feasts.

In love, with high schools and sweethearts and a race for the train.

A friend turned lover, and beautiful kisses in the rain.

In horror, with blood and gore and guts.

A running masked man, and a cabin in the woods.

I lose myself in the pages of stories these heroes called authors write.

I sink into magnificent world's each and every night.

But at some point...

As we all know.

Reality returns,

And the cracks again start to show.