"she is my conscience”

I often find her invading my dreams,
An escaping world I built from small wishes and tiny wonders,
Her presence brings long lasting droughts,
Murderer of the enchanted forest,
I planted with my bare hands,
Seed by seed,
I mothered as they grew,
Tree by tree,
In this far off world reality is forbidden,
Yet it is she who lets in what I have hidden,
For I nearly scratch out my eyes,
When she flashes feelings of true agony,
damn her,
I ponder,
she won’t give up,
nor will she give in,
she exists to make me feel what is brutally real,
but I’ll take no pity on my ethereal thoughts,
I constantly flee to this world I’ve made up,
when fantasy is all I want to feel,
She is that voice in my head chanting…
What I love is not real.