Her Warmth

She locks herself behind the dark cramped room

as the battle downstairs continues to intensify.

The never ending war between Mother and Father,

who use words like blood shattering bullets

until one ceases to exist.

But she can no longer endure this endless war.

Although she is only a witness,

she has received her own battle scars as well.

Therefore, she hides in her room,

scattered with thousands of books

all written by her favorite author.

The one she calls hero.

These books have saved her from the repetitive aching wounds.

Each time she opens a torn, worn out book,

she is hit with the familiar aroma

of vintage yellowish sheets of paper.

As she reads the first couple of sentences,

she is immediately transported back to the warm deja vu sensation

of a whole “new” world once again.

The nostalgia comes rushing in

with a new environment, a new time, and a new life.

Revisiting each world slowly makes her forget

of the bombshells echoing below.

It takes her away from the suffering warfare she must call reality.

In the middle of this bloodshed battlefield

she finds herself a place

with open arms

instead of the deadly ammunition pair.

There is no way to know when this war will come to a halt,

but for now she will remain under those

secure gentle arms

till the very end.