These are people that I care for
and they know just what to say.
They don’t ever call me crazy
or think that I’m in the way.
I can count on them forever
to stand by me in this war,
so when table seats are turning,
why do I still ask for more?
Is it because they don’t fit in
my serene pictured ideals?
Do I spend my life wishing for
things that never could be real?
There’s a line that someone said
that puts this impasse into tense:
What splits fiction and reality?
“Fiction has to make sense.” ~ Tom Clancy