The outside world can disappear,
With the closing of a door,
The muffling of an ear
It’s a small little space,
But it is my safe place
Many books cover my desk,
Papers with scribbles of thoughts,
Seemingly grotesque.
In one particular book I find,
A gathering of words to comfort my mind
It speaks of an outside world not known to me,
A world filled with a compassionate love that is carefree
I wonder if it could ever be so,
Should I take the risk and attempt to know?
I ask the other book and it tells me no,
A world awaits filled with intolerance and guns with hatred filled ammo
Which is fiction and which is not?
Perception makes the one the other,
And in my mind resides the words beneath the hardcover.
And if found in the world of intolerance,
I will try and love my brother.
And when this becomes too hard,
I will return to my small little space,
And find more words
This time however,
I may just read, and sleep
forever
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 2:46 PM UTC
The outside world can disappear,
With the closing of a door,
The muffling of an ear
It’s a small little space,
But it is my safe place
Many books cover my desk,
Papers with scribbles of thoughts,
Seemingly grotesque.
In one particular book I find,
A gathering of words to comfort my mind
It speaks of an outside world not known to me,
A world filled with a compassionate love that is carefree
I wonder if it could ever be so,
Should I take the risk and attempt to know?
I ask the other book and it tells me no,
A world awaits filled with intolerance and guns with hatred filled ammo
Which is fiction and which is not?
Perception makes the one the other,
And in my mind resides the words beneath the hardcover.
And if found in the world of intolerance,
I will try and love my brother.
And when this becomes too hard,
I will return to my small little space,
And find more words
This time however,
I may just read, and sleep
forever
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