Reality is the lingering silence,
on the other end of the line.
Reality is parents who don't listen,
for they don't have the time.
Reality is waking up,
to realize you were crying,
or breaking up because
you were always fighting.
Reality is the crack in my voice,
when i strain to hit the note,
or the feeling you get before crying-the lump in the back of your throat.
Reality is the arms around me
that make me feel safe.
Reality is watching everything move-though you're standing in place.
My reality keeps changing,
shedding its skin to start anew.
Perhaps i'll find a reality,
in which my dreams can come true.