Books are an addition,
Some facts and some are fiction.
Do not be mistaken,
All your thoughts will be taken.
They feed on your lust,
And turn happiness to must.
Though similar a drum,
A knocking on your head.
It yearns itself to stick.
But that's all in your mind,
Your reality but a grey norm.
The seemingly perfect dreams,
Crumbled by the knock of a door
But why must it be fake?
Why have to lie,
why not be stuck?
Stuck in thoughts of a reality.
A reality painted by someone,
Colours are now words.
All emotions fall upon them.
They are the reality we want.
The books take you away,
So why take away the books?
Why remove yourself?
Why?..
