Behind Books
She sat at her desk,
Wondering if life was
Worth living beyond the
Contents of her mind,
Because she found fantasy
Kinder then the reality
Beyond her bedroom door
Where the shouts and hurt
Filled the very air
She breathed.
Drowning in her loneliness,
Her friends were the books
On her shelves and the birds
Who sang outside her room every
Morning and evening
When the sun said hello,
Or goodnight.
Their songs touched her,
In rare, quiet moments
And she secretly knew
There was good beyond the walls,
But internally she would rather dwell.
