The Art Of Abstaining

Dear poet, come back to reality,

It's been too long since that,

Till when will you keep fantasizing over those impossible theories,

Give it up, move on, where is your mind at?

You know all those people call you a lunatic,

But turns out, you are a happy prince in your utopia,

When there's too many at your tail,

You think you'll fight them off in your euphoria.

This imaginative world that you dwell in,

Only because you are scared to face the dreading reality,

The fantasy seems to nurture you more than those piercing glares,

So you choose, not a bonafide, but to be a wannabe.

Some say you write to empty your spirit,

Some say it is to feel it with experiences you'll never experience,

Some ask whether its easier to bounce off cold, jealous stares or write a weary poetry,

All you can say now is, "Eh, what's the difference!"

Dear poet, come back to reality,

It's been too long since that,

Till when will you keep fantasizing over those impossible theories,

Give it up, move on, where is your mind at?