This pile of books,
Is my only friend,
We’ve been to worlds far away,
But I know it’s just pretend.
This corner nook,
By the window sill,
Shows a world as clear as day,
A destiny I can’t fulfil.
If I had a spell,
That would work on you,
It would likely make all my dreams come true,
But, if I had a spell,
That would work on you,
I don’t think that I’d be able to follow through.
This pile of books,
Has been my ball and chain,
I’ve held by the weight of the words,
But I won’t make that mistake again.
This heavy door,
Under lock and key,
Has never been held shut,
By anyone other than me.
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