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Off in My Own World
A Poem
you say there’s nothing to be gained
from the pages of a good book
because other worlds don’t mean much
when the one around you is crumbling
but I still sit with my head in the clouds,
away from all the things that might hurt,
because it’s so much better living
in a place that doesn’t disappoint
you say I’m wasting all my time
when I could be changing this world —
but what keys do you think I have
to unlock a different way of life?
all my safe spaces are bound up
in paper and ink alchemy —
the only magic known to man
to outlast regimes and war zones
you say I should be the change
that I want to see in the world,
but those are fruitless words
in a downward spiral sphere
the books may not outlive me —
they still burn them, you know —
but the ideas will swirl ‘round
like a frenzy in the water
