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.