Once upon a time, a girl fell into a book.
Lost she was afore, she found her place in its folds.
A new life she weaved for herself with its words,
Master and slave, she became the centre of this world.
Erelong the book came to an end,
And as the last of the gossamer words
Slipped from her grasp,
She found herself plunging through space
Into the despair of this world, alas.
Now that girl be nought but a waif,
All skin, sinew and bags of blood.
She searches for her new book, her own world.
Know that this waif maybe known to thee.
For this waif be none other than me.
Copyright ©2017 Pradita Kapahi.
All rights reserved.
Image Source: Pinterest