She sits alone in the silence, lost in her book.
This is how she spends her time, has for so long.
In the pages of books, she finds her life.
Not here, not in this dusty, nowhere place she was birthed to.
Here she is nothing, nobody; just a sad, empty shell.
She reads and rereads the pages until they come to life.
She smiles, she dances, she screams with anger!
Every emotion lives within her lonesome, hungry soul.
Then the final page is turned and once again she weeps.
Weeps for the little girl lost.
All Rights Reserved © C. J. Rains 7/1/2018
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is so affecting- I have often wondered if children start reading because their own life is so drab and without hope and they find they can have glorious adventures inside the covers of books. And maybe that's why writers write those books! 10++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++