What Isn't Real

It seems like only a few weeks ago nothing ever mattered.
But then realty hit.
I remember make believe crowds cheering my name,
but that was when I was a kid.
Faires were real.
As real as my imagination which lead me to the sky.
But I realized so long ago,
my imagination was a lie.
There's no such things as fairies.
Magc isn't real.
True loves kiss can't wake the dead,
because the dead have nothing to feel.
What we can't see isn't real.
When I was stll young and far from wise,
all that mattered was boys.
Obssessions of beauty and being wanted:
Having everything kiddish destroyed.
I gave myself out because they told me the things wanted to here.
But love was there,
so I let them all steel,
because what we can't see isn't real.
I stopped going to church and ignored all the crushes.
Ignored the feelings of pain and want.
It was time to grew up,
move along in a rut,
all until the day I died.
At least by then I'd have nothing to feel,
because what we can't see isn't feel.