Unreal yet loved. Fiction but truth.


I wish I could write fiction
I wish I could craft some fantasy
Some unreal pretending to be real
A creation I can run to, the imagination I can own
So that all the unloved, all the unseen all the unsaved
Can be brought back
The arguments can be erased, the hatred can be omitted
I can forget the part where love ceased, where it all ended
The nothing doesnt exist then
Someone exists, someone will be there, something will remain
And losing it should be impossible
It should be there till the end
The end can be soon, but 'the something' will stay
All assured, everything sure, I will be understood then
It can read my smile, if the smile is real.
To know my anger is only grief
To takeaway all the grief
Where love is not stopped, where replacement is impossible 
Where the curves and twists and dislikes are not hidden
Coz in fiction is truth. Coz what's real is unbearable.
The real is painful, it aches, it lies
The fiction is mine, only if I cud have one.
I wish I cud write some fiction. A little unreal.

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