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When will the sky open up? When will a rift tear through this world and strike down the tallest building? When will mass panic hit 80% of the world as a beast of myth rips through the fissure? Will the 20% of us ever get our wish? We will run to our basements, dust off the armor we were told we'd never need, pull out the sword and wipe the grime off to see a reflection inside the sword, first ourselves, then something else.
When will we get the chance to whip around holding that sword, survey our enemy and grin as it shambles sideways, it's unearthly jaw shaking to stay on as it gasps out our name and our only response is to smile gleefully.
When will you beg us for a weapon and we can step back and just shake our head, when we speak to the masters of the Underdark and trade gold for a cloak with a dark sheen over it.
When will you realize that if we ruled the world, we would not try to make you drive slower, we would not make you wear certain clothes, we would not look like models, we would not tell you that your not skinny enough or your boobs aren't big enough. If you don't wear the right fashion, it's your life on the line, not ours.
We are the people who are twisted enough to wish, pray, and dream of these circumstances. Even if it meant our lives, or yours.
We were born in the wrong reality.
When will we get the chance to whip around holding that sword, survey our enemy and grin as it shambles sideways, it's unearthly jaw shaking to stay on as it gasps out our name and our only response is to smile gleefully.
When will you beg us for a weapon and we can step back and just shake our head, when we speak to the masters of the Underdark and trade gold for a cloak with a dark sheen over it.
When will you realize that if we ruled the world, we would not try to make you drive slower, we would not make you wear certain clothes, we would not look like models, we would not tell you that your not skinny enough or your boobs aren't big enough. If you don't wear the right fashion, it's your life on the line, not ours.
We are the people who are twisted enough to wish, pray, and dream of these circumstances. Even if it meant our lives, or yours.
We were born in the wrong reality.
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It irks me that people think I am kidding when I read a book and I just wish I was apart of it, or if I cry after reading something no one understands. No one understands when you read a book sometimes you don't see a "story" you wake up in cold sweats shouting the name of one of the characters, as if a comrade, because to you, it's a memory. You walk around the house going "Wasn't I doing something? Oh yeah I wa--oh wait no, that was the book..." You feel a broken piece of your soul when the people in the book will never say your name because you'd do ANYTHING for them, and yet they don't exist.
It tears us apart, and you make fun of them. Next time you make fun of someone getting into a book, think twice.
This is not really poetry or anything of the sort, but a rambling of an old fool stuck in a young womans body. Just an old fool.
Inspired by this: rukiara.deviantart.com/art/wro…
It tears us apart, and you make fun of them. Next time you make fun of someone getting into a book, think twice.
This is not really poetry or anything of the sort, but a rambling of an old fool stuck in a young womans body. Just an old fool.
Inspired by this: rukiara.deviantart.com/art/wro…
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