Page 1, Most writers as children had issues. I know I did. We also learned to hone our imaginations to protect ourselves. I give you this.....
There locked away, so far away from the world,
she sat and dreamt her idle frivolous daydreams.
A castle lay in the distance with turrets high,
and eagles soared above chanteuse streams.
The land where fairies, trolls, and dragons abounded,
and she wove tales of princesses and knights.
These became her obsessions and her only escape,
from the sound of angry voices, periodic fights.
Her childhood was eaten away in make believe,
because the real world had shunned the child,
she learned at an earlier age then most,
to let the mind, her imagination run wild.
As the years passed, for her time stood still,
she fell deeper into the land she had created.
People who cared enough tried to assist,
to drag her back out of what she fabricated.
Then one day a man came into her life,
and where others had failed, he led her out,
His hands were gentle, his voice sincere.
He guided, she had no desire to turn about.
Yet, her creations still call her name,
and she goes back to see if the castle still stands,
not as much these days, most times not as long,
for she senses the danger of make believe lands.
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