our silly antics were not inexplicable,
yet you found them unreasonable.

how is this good for us
and don’t you have work to do
in a shouldn’t you be
studying for your OWLs?
kind of way—

perhaps our lives seemed unreal,
always escaped into a fantasy,
wishing nothing else mattered
but joy…

ultimately, we imagined you:
your painfully rational being
was more a deception than
anything we tried to convince ourselves
as true.

your life is the fairytale,
the television show,
and all of this is just your set.

one day it may all be dismantled,
and will you know how to behave,
and not act, without a script?

will you learn,
that we spend all our energy,
just trying
to cope?