Its just Reality

Speak, in hopes to be heard from the heart
Not of emptyness resounidng from ear to ear
But deep within the womb, where Spirt resides

Dream, of a World that is just
Where flying takes precedence over planted feet
And reality is just a word of it's own making

Cry, into a pillow as dense as is needed
To dry and absorb each tear that falls
Unnoticed as the reason for its birth

Laugh, out loud for the audience
Whose entertainment is sought on both ends
Even if only to passby a moment of loneliness...