there's a life on this slightly crinkled paper,

a power beyond your wildest belief.

a magic brought to life through printed letters,

an existence far greater than you or me.

people come to life because of a pencil,

emotions are wrought because of a single word.

you're looking at true magic right now,

so is imagination really so foolishly absurd?

there's a beauty on this slightly smeared paper,

a love stronger than you could ever see.

a world come to life through careful splotches of ink.

a reason to survive because of a simple dream.

lives are saved because of a woven tale,

hate conquered through the scribblings of a pen.

you're beholding true magic right now,

so is dreaming really such a foolhardy sin?