Answer:
Novels are one's joy
It is where one's imagination roams free
Wondering why is that
Shaming those who live in the nonexistent
Pondering about something
Read a novel for class
The mind is currently not present until one heard a bang
A sigh was heard and so was loud yelling
Fighting, when one's ego was hurt it is it's choice
At least in this case
Walked out the door to wherever the feet will go
Leaving the two screaming banshees
Arrived at the home of novels
Sitting there for a long time, decided to read
A novel about a kids journey, a happy story
Not leaving that book and brought it everywhere
Says it's because the book is good
The screaming of the two banshees are not heard while reading
A random day, on a random month
The book is gone
Felt empty
Hearing them screaming again
Unable to leave the moment
The book is gone how can it
Realized the it wasn't just the book
It's joy, it's life
The kid in the story had something they didn't have
Realized they had became the same people one has shamed
Living in one's imagination
Found out that reality was worse than one's creativity
Explanation:
So I literally almost never write a poem before except for class, but even then we copied similar stuff from an existing poem. So this is probably not good, you're probably cringing on your end. I just beg you to have mercy. :D
