Said the Reader to the Writer “Your stories are great, I love them so

They keep me entertained.

But what why do your stories seem to go

from happiness to sorrow, misery and pain?”

Said the Writer “This is the story, the way that things must be

Nothing can be happy or sad or glad or mad or always just the same

There must be life within the tale, a sense of true reality.”

The Reader snorted and shook his head, “Reality is too tame,

I want action and lots of stuff that reality just can’t give.

I want dragons and genies and stuff and heroes without a name!”

The Writer just sighed and shook her head, “Then you want far too much.

A story is something we writers give

To those without the touch.”

The Reader, red and flustered now, said “You can’t write it that’s why you won’t!

You’re washed up and finished and beat down with age

You say you want to but you don’t!

With me, without us, you have nothing left, your mind is just a cage.

You’ll wither and wilt and your ideas will rot

Without a reader it’s your story’s death knell.”

The Writer smiled “You’ve likely forgot

There will always be a story to tell.”

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