I'm not done yet, but what do you think Her world is made up of books
But no one would dare to look
To see if she’s really there
Hidden between stacks of books
Right over there in the corner
No one would dare sit next to her
But when you look closer
She’s a bit of a blurr
For her life is made of ink and paper
Ideas and more
For she is her own maker
Her life may not be of war
But it’s not of happiness either
She has no friends
And doesn’t mind
Because the books that she spends
Are her one and only true friend