You were a balloon
Tethered to my hand
Floating above my head
And then one day the string moved
From my hand to my neck
And you floated all the same

Send me back to where I belong
Cut the wings you made of feather
I cannot live where I feel wrong
I’ll never stand this change of weather

Make me feel good once again
Let the aching leave my head
I feel the dribbling down my chin
While trying to sleep in my so-called bed.
.
.
.
.

A writer writes to hide his pain.
And a reader reads to find someone who feels the same.

is both sword
and shield.