My real life is hidden in a dream,

And so I only live when I’m asleep.

I go to exciting places where

I’ve never been, and see strange things 

I’ve never seen, and meet interesting people,

And find exotic ways to come to be

Friends with them and get to know

The way they like to be

When they’re alone.

But when I wake,

I have to cook and clean

The same old things

Over and over,

And care for those

Who share my dna,

And when they’re cross with me,

And say things don’t taste right,

And don’t seem to be 

The way they ought to be,

I stare at them,

And wish that they could see

Who I am at night,

The things I do in my dreams,

Then they would know,

That I wear the pajamas in this family!

-jenn