I can manage being alone, home and anywhere else.
I can handle no phone calls, no letters, no wishes of health.
I can take complete solitude, bear it with a grin,
But I cannot live without a paper and a pen.
Give me dungeons, dragons, doom of all kinds,
Windows with bars, any confines.
Lock me away, farther than any can see,
Just leave me my imagination,
and happy I’ll be.
Let me read, let me write, let me spend all night composing the dreams of my heart.
Making light of my pain, my fears, my situation,
pencils and paper provide a better vacation
than any spa, any island, any resort in the sun.
Let me write words and I’m having my fun.
With poetry I escape, I live, I move on,
and I give myself something to be proud of,
something I could shout of,
joy in writing, inciting the imagination
to be great and create