How long has it been?
The world has been hazy,
my life, a mother to crazy,
so much so, my only escape is solitude and a pen

Small scripts of literature,
written nicely in fine print,
the words speaking in glints,
as they shine upon the ceiling

All was perfect and fine,
it was as if God was calling,
the letters, sprawling,
emitting the smell of wine

A sweet scent, it was,
blurring my smell,
enhancing my sight,

Though as soon as it had started, it was over,
no more words on the walls,
no more letters down the halls,
it was dark once again

And as I glance upon the book,
words upon words are blurred,
letters upon letters, deterred,
and thus my changed outlook