Real life.
What is it?
Is it the trees that grow,
The wind that blows?
Maybe the imgination,
Our own creation.
What we choose it to be.

Real life.
Is it what we see?
Seasons, Pictures, Colors,
Our own little world, No other?
A figment of lies in our minds,
Changing in the midsts of time.
What we choose it to be.

Real life.
What is it to me?
Video games, Magazines,
What the eye can see?
No much, Much more,
Cannot see the open doors.
What we choose it to be.

Real life.
Complicated.
We could do anything,
If magic made it.
Nothing, Is left,
But this test.
What we choose it to be.

Real life?
Or pretend?
This confusion,
Will it ever end?
Destination?
Imagination?
Make it what you want it to be.