Power In A Book's Voice

Ever since a young age, You’ve been there for me. I feel warmth cuddled in your arms, Even though the building’s AC is turned all the way up. The sound of your pages turning is pure bliss in a noisy city. And I’ve grown to love the musty smell of small shops and libraries, And the fragrant wisps of tea and coffee. Now I can’t promise I’ll always protect you, Because everyone has their weaknesses, Your’s just happens to be fire and water damage. And there’s no way to thank you for all the knowledge, I am so much more powerful because of you. You’ve taught me right from wrong, You’ve taught how to stay strong, You make me feel like I belong, And somewhere in that twisted mind of life, You’ve shed the light on him, All secrets now known, But there’s still some tricks under his sleeves. Now I can’t say that I’ll never get lost on that path, But all I know is that when I do, You’ll always be there, So I can get lost in your words, And forget the pain, Although not necessarily running away, More like retreating to fight another day. Because if there’s one thing you’ve taught me, Is that life is a marathon not a sprint, You’ve got to lose some battles to win the war. But for some reason I should never forget where this all started, Well that really shouldn’t matter because it should be about the end? Oh, no, wait, the journey? Wait, if people say that one part is important and the others aren’t, Then which voice should I listen to? Theirs or your’s?