Take Me Home

Take Me Home
I twirl and draw my trusty sword.
Our blades meet thrice; no sound is heard.
One enemy falls as I continue to fight.
I must purge this world of its evil plight.

My mother sees me through the glass
with wood in hand, not steel or brass,
and the battle field I’m fighting on,
is nothing more than our front lawn.

The world I’m in is imaginary,
for life itself is far too scary.
Imagination helped me to cope
when pain and anger forced out all hope.

Now, through books, imagination lives.
The author knows not the help he gives
to this lonely boy searching for escape
from this world of pain and hate.

Through books I’ve learned to deal with life
and see there’s good in all the strife.
Imagination is my true home,
for when I’m there my mind can roam.

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