When boredom knocks and whisper low,
My pain paints lies and let it flow,
A twist, a spark, a quiet sway.
I watch them believed what I had imagined,
A Perfect lie to be told,
A tale too tempting to withhold
Each word, a thread, to gentle steer
And as they dance to my dream ,
Lost in the world I created ,
I remain anonymous, unseen and unknown.