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.
*<v><v><v>*
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.
*<v><v><v>*
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
Itarow Krähe 
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