She’s a 10, but she lives in a fantasy world,
Full of dragons and Fye and magical things.
You ask her what she’s day dreaming about,
And she tells you it’s that she had wings.
She imagines a sky with no limits,
A world full of glimmer and gore.
She’s on a quest through the Cliffs of Draylore,
She just crossed the haunted West Mores.
She doesn’t get why you aren’t smiling,
With a ferry chirping songs in your ear,
Or how you don’t notice the mystical glimpse,
Of a Sentor you swore was a deer.
Maybe you think that she’s crazy,
Maybe you’re sure she’s gone mad.
But, somewhere deep under that skeptical glance
You see that she’s flying again.
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