You can open the pages just to unwind
It is nice to be in a world that’s not your own
It is like falling in love with a piece of someone’s mind

The words on the page, to the feel of the spine
Books are the mirror to reality the words have sewn
You can escape this boring world in which we are all confined

The characters can understand you better than your own kind
It feels like a hug, making you feel less alone
It is like falling in love with a piece of someone’s mind

The lessons you can learn, with real life they intertwine
They can teach you that it’s okay when a solutions unknown
You can escape this boring world to which we are all confined

Books are an endless pool of thoughts, going against how our world is designed
Feeling as free as the birds that have graced the sky and flown
It is like falling in love with a piece of someone’s mind

Sometimes when I feel like my emotions have declined
I pick up a book when the world getting too much is prone
You can open the pages just to unwind
It is like falling in love with a piece of someone’s mind.

I love books
reading them
entering other worlds
filled with romance
and dragons
and magic
and anything you can imagine
so enchanting
the words transport you
into different dimensions
feeling what the character feels
experiencing what the character experiences
the words turn into images
that turn into a portal to the setting
when the book closes
reality slams into you
the rapid change in worlds is jarring

When your heart races,
Rushing out of a dream,
And words leave spaces
And lines in between,
Where your heart heals
To be shattered again,
Like oceans surreal
Once the reverie ends,
Frantically you strain
To let yourself sink,
With a mind soiled, stained,
And brimming with ink.

I'll start reading a kindle when they make it smell like a book.

Time is non existant
The world around me shuts down
I transfer myself wholeheartedly
Into a fantastical adventure
For I am no longer myself
I am the protagonist
Sleep, I need not
But answers, well..
Answers I need to live

A quiet, calm, serene place,

contrast with my heart's pace.

Gently slipping into silence,

just like plush, soft and dense.


The smell of books my spirit sedates,

new or old, they are the gates

of my comfort castle, made of words,

where pages fly instead of birds.


Safe and warm, paper and pen,

I can write, this is my zen.

For paper puts up with a lot,

every line, curve and dot;

with each word I lay on the page,

I'm one step outside the cage;

Outside myself, this prison of mine,

the chaos spills into written line.


Away from problems, light and free,

peace at last, in the library.

I was a page in your book of life.
You were a whole chapter in mine.