The Death of Imagination
Imagination sits alone crying silver tears.
No longer needed, she fades away.
Alone she sits, her heart weeping red rivers
of blood that was once so warm and pure.
Reality glares upon Imagination's beauty
For Reality is ugly while what we dream
Is lovely. Even if it's not real it's more magical
Than we know. The less we dream the weaker
Imagination becomes and the harsher Reality
Is. With one laugh Reality plunges the black
Knife of Deception straight into Imagination's
Pure heart.
No more shall she fly with the Dragon King
Above purple skies of freedom.
Never again shall she sleep under the willow
With flaming phoenixes while pixies dance
On butterfly wings to sing the song of dreams
To all that still believe in Imagination.
Imagination's golden wings wilt, flaming hair
Fades, sapphire eyes blur, and warm skin chills
With a sorrow that she will never inspire
Anyone again.
With one last quavering breath,
She dies.