escape

the chaotic scrambling –
roaring of cars speeding recklessly down highways,
the tapping of wooden pencils against crumpled paper,
screaming at puddles of blood dripping down gutters on streets,
fists meeting fists in fits of rage and anger,
robotic voices of robotic reporters growing louder and louder –

disappears.

silenced.

and you find yourself within a palace
constructed of carefully penned words
and beautiful characters of intricately woven backstories
with tears, rips in time, explosive anger, blinding happiness –

and, for a second, you can escape
from the chaos of the opposing forces in your novel
into the quietness of a story that is not yours.

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