Poem: They Live Through Words

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Love affairs
with imaginary characters
a writer's dream.

In olden days
they'd call me dreamer
lonely, heartsick, insane

Their thoughts haunt me
crying out to be heard
I am only their chronicler.

Unbound by modern rules
magic and mystery abide
by their own calculations.

Each life is precious
with their own backstory
how can we ignore them?

Alternate lives in alternate worlds
separated by the thinnest of veils
who says they are not alive?


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