I read books again and again,
the characters comfort me
as we grow close over time
their actions predictable
their thoughts always positive
their attitude unbeatable

I read books again and again,
I'm not afraid to say
that I love these people
imprinted on the page,
My time is spent
choosing to continue our journey
a decision they can not make themselves

For my friends in these words
they do not know me or know of me
that I observe them
commenting on their world
which I myself will never get to live in,
Even so with them as my vessel
I do try my best
by reading my books again and again.

Sometimes I feel guilty
for all the stories I will never read
for the character who's wisdom I'll never know
for the books I leave untouched
as all these tales hold the authors heart
their beliefs and values they aspired to share
the world's they wished they lived in
the friends they wished they had
which I will now never know

a war rages on inside my brain
two voices dominate the rest,
as one call for more guns and bombs
it's only aim to cause damage,
the other whispers for peace
with a soft voice thats not fit for combat,
all it can do is silently gain support
of innocent onlookers

inside your head do fatalities also rise
at the hands of bullets that strangle soft voices,
does your heart wish for peace
wailing against the sound of warfare

I look deep into your eyes
for any clues for the victor,
wondering if my words did help
or get drowned out by screams

My days been a horrible one
for no specific reason.
I lay in bed I'm boredom
scrolling endlessly on my phone
in a desperate attempt to preoccupy my mind
away from the decisions that plague me

All day I tried to break this curse
of this neverending scroll.
My attempts to pry my face from the screen
have been continuously unsuccessful

However, now the rain does fall outside
comforting me greatly
even in the peak of summer
the world does give me the greatest gift
the ocean
the rivers
the ponds
falling outside my window

So with my cat sleeping by my side
I vow to drop my phone and pick up my book
as though I may not get up from my vertical position
as though the sun's getting ready to sleep
this day is still mine and I'll spend it how I please

I don't think I've ever missed anyone
The feeling feels unknown
frightening
Because whilst I take notices of people absences
Because whilst I care about them deeply
I've never had the feeling
Of being too alone without them
Of wondering what they're doing
Of wanting them to be thinking about me
My heart has never ached for them
to have them by my side

Im unsure if this makes me bad
a bad daughter
a bad sister
a bad friend
an undeserving figure in others lives
Do I not merit their loving care
or their warm bright stare?