Delusion or Fantasy

Thoughts running wild on fools errands, looking for signs of possibility. Searching for hope that's not lost, pleading to find what's true. Longing for a place never known, all the while it feels like a warm home. As if walking through that door was an actual possibility; To good to be true it all fades as she grasps for a handle that's not there. Deeper inside the feeling of futility grows like mold in a damp basement, hidden in the dark shadowy places. Yearning for something that's unknown but feels like everything needed. Is it a delusion made in the mind of a mad woman or a fantasy made in an unloved woman's head..