It's Only A Faery Tale World
Yesterday, I read about the boy with the scar
And his glasses,
How they shone under the dull lamplight of his cuboard
That fits perfectly under the stairs
Like a faery tale.
As he reads the stories of long, long ago
He wishes that he were out there,
Fighting against the dragons
Alongside the knights of old,
With Merlin and the other great lions,
Such as Rumbleroar.
But what about those other years,
The later ones
Where he does fight along side
The brave knights of yester-year.
Those battles in years to come;
Where family dies,
Leaving loved ones as they head on,
Drifting beyond the veil
To a more magical Narnia.
Is it such a faery tale than,
The one he dreamed it to be?
He's grown from that skinny stick form
To a young adult,
So no time for make believe.
Now, it's reality
Everything means death
The world isn't beneath the pages anymore
Like some often wish it to be yet again.
It's under the hand
That holds the wood,
In a flick of a wand,
A single movement of the wrist,
To a gasp of pain
The hiss of a snake,
That looses it's venom among it's own blood.
Pools of it mingle,
Drifting among the feet of others;
Mixing with the tears of others;
Lifting with the spirits of others;
Rising above the tear strung and cloudy skies
And up to the heavens
It's not so much of a faery tale now, is it boy?
Not when there is blood.
Not when there's death.
Not when you don't know what flat-nosed object
Is waiting for you
Just around the corner to kill you.
But to us,
It's only a faery tale world
Just for us to enjoy.