Books

Once I get home, I sit outside after a long day.

Everyone wants to talk to me, but I don't really have anything to say.

I like to keep to myself, because it ensures that I will not be in pain.

I try to open up, but there is no part of me that wants to remain.

There is one thing that I always want to do,

And it is sit down and forget about everything that I have to do.

The characters in the book seem to come alive,

And with every new word read, the story continues to thrive.

Every page I turn leads to something new,

And it seems as if the story will never be through.

However, that is not something that I am complaining about, 

Because the amount of books that I want to read never runs out.

The book continues on, and it becomes more and more intense,

And soon all of the bits and pieces come together and it all starts to make sense.

Soon enough, you reach the end of the book, 

And you think about everything that happened, and you realize that you were hooked.

The story has ended, but the obsession has just begun,

And it won't be long before I start another one,

And that one is also done. 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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