If you take away my poetry,
That would be the end,
Destroying along with it a part of me,
That would never be fixable again.

It is in my soul,
Part of my life,
For you may as well just hand me,
A bit of rope and a knife.

For I can not live without my escape,
To a far away land,
Where no one can judge you,
For reading a book on the sand.

There are books a plentiful,
And movies to take,
For everyone is trustworthy,
And we make few mistakes.

That's the life I look forward to,
Just look and you'll see,
No one wants to be trapped here,
On this planet for eternity.
So don't take away,
My poetry from me,
It is, in fact,
My last resort at regaining,
My lost sanity.