In the solitude of my small room
I read and write and dream of tomorrow.
I lock out the world of cruel reality
and fantasize of better or worse happenstance.
In my inconsequential room
I am free from society
free of insecurity and belittling.
I am free to listen to the music that I wish to hear
And can talk to friends and loves
who exist only in my writing
I can express myself even if it makes no sense.
I can live and experience greater things in the freedom,
the solitude of my room, with child-like imagination.
Though I go out to reality and socialize, go with life;
I do my living in my room.