How I do it (poem)

She asks me how I do it,

and I try to explain

how my mind is dangerously fictional,

wrapped in constant stories,

so much I get lost in them.

I try to explain that writing

is the only good use of them,

how since I can't escape,

I might as well tell them,

hoping that changing the characters saves me.

So rejoice that you are not so bad

that you write love stories

where they will never happen,

taking the slightest thing to mean so much,

when so often it is meaningless.

-Zero