What is real,
I mean really real?
You and I breathe,
And we’ll all have a last breath.

Now am I being real?
We live life, with set boarders,
Break the boundaries and your out of line.
And block the freedom, this is to be what line?

We write a line, or sing a song,
Of love, hate, hurt, and the like,
Dare any of it comes true, but only to argue,
Love any of it, coming true, do we really need to fight?

Let’s make this up;
That I can just change it all,
And giving it all, can be a sin they say,
But it’s ok to sing the lust of the sin, to all!

So this is real, not fantasy, our world,
No, this is what we made to be real.
I want a better life I hope, or if we could,
But this is my real fantasy,
Yet you’ve made it even more unreal.

©2007, Ron Globe