Reality.

The facts of your reality
Are none but a figment
Of your vast imagination-
A blatant lie- to me.
I could rip my hair
From their very roots
In my fury at your ignorance,
And my screams could bellow
In the hollow of your belief in me,
I could tremble with passion
And spasm with exhilaration;
But the facts of my reality
Would be nothing to you
But hallucinations
Caused by the complexity
Of my mind, which has,
As you say, befallen tragically
To the cusps of insanity.
And so I beg you to leave me be
To my own reality, as I do you.
We shall only unite
When you find it permissible
For my reality to dilute yours.

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