The teenager sat in the corner of a closet

Reading their favorite sonnet.

A small lamp was lit, giving them the right amount of light,

To see the black printed words on the pages made of white.


This was their happy place.

The corner where they can come after a light and float into space.

The closet where harm can not reach the hum.

Where the stories and pungent smell diminishes the feeling of being numb.


They are forever safe.

Never to become a waif.

To forever read their favorite sonnet,

In their happy place, which was a closet.

Closet – Response

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