Maybe things aren't as they seem,
Maybe this is all just a dream...
Perhaps this world does not exist,
Perhaps this world is made from mist.
Mist that you could shape and mold,
Mist that makes the world you've controlled.
It's about time for you to wake,
Because the world you know is fake.
All your life you've been asleep,
Trapped inside a sleep so deep...
Don't you ever think, "Why Not?"
A lot could spawn from this thought.
So think about it, question your world,
Think the right thoughts, your life will be swirled.
Change things around, start bending the rules,
Have all the fame, demolish the schools.
Do as you please, have all the fun,
Heck, change the color of the sun...
Because in this world, it's all in your head,
It's all imaginary in the life you led.
Because maybe things are not as they seem,
Because maybe this world is just a dream.

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I live with my mother, father, and older brother. I've lived in Elmira, New York, all my life. My poem that I call "Maybe" was inspired by my fascination with lucid dreams and how free you are in such dreams. The concept of flying at will, phasing through walls and creating an overall new world inspired "Maybe." I wrote this poem when I was thirteen and I continue to write to this day.