My imagination makes it so.
The words the fly,
Create,
Destroy,
But most of all imagine the world.
They come alive in colorful ways but as the years go on I find fading.
For world to slowly faded from my mind.
The small scripts, poems, pages upon pages, keep her alive.
But the mind begins to forget.
But one day,
I'm sure she'll return,
dressed in red,
black long hair and eyes afraid of nothing.
One day she'll stand again and I will imagine her world full of wonder and war.
Musings of an imagination forgetting
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