This pile of books,
Is my only friend,
We’ve been to worlds far away,
But I know it’s just pretend.

This corner nook,
By the window sill,
Shows a world as clear as day,
destiny I can’t fulfil.

If I had a spell,
That would work on you,
It would likely make all my [bad word] [bad word] 
But, if I had a spell,
That would work on you,
I don’t think that I’d be able to follow through.

This pile of books,
Has been my ball and chain,
I’ve held by the weight of the words,
But I won’t make that mistake again.

This heavy door,
Under lock and key,
Has never been held shut,
By anyone other than me.