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Vorton

I’m from Vorton,
it’s as foggy as London,
it’s as rocky as Mordor.
It’s sky brims with oranges and purples,
it’s covered in a sea of galaxies and stars.
There’s no night or day--only space.
The land floats like a blimp,
containing blue markings on the floor that glow.
In the distance is strange architecture, broken apart, and floating.

Strange visitors enter this place,
From a hero in a bat costume,
to a yellow fellow who loves donuts.
From a creature obsessed with the One Ring,
to a time lord who can travel anywhere, dimensions and time periods galore.
From a guy who claims to catch ghosts,
to a dog that talks and solves mysteries.
From a young wizard with a strange scar on his head,
to an alien that wants to “phone home.”
Many visitors mention someone by the name of “Lord Vortech,”
but that’s everything I know about them.

I’m not actually from Vorton.
It’s in a game, a game I play.
London isn’t foggy.
Mordor isn’t real.
My sky is blue and bright, sometimes white.
My world is green and vibrant.
It’s filled with trees and water.
My world teems with life.
And Vorton doesn’t even exist.




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