Choices πŸ’–

To her, freedom didn’t mean the right to raise her voice,

It didn’t mean the privilege to wear her choice,

It didn’t mean traveling around the world – living in, its every corner and nook, 
All it only ever meant, was snuggling in, to her book –
For, it gave her what the rest of the world couldn’t – it brought her alive, it set her imagination on fire,

It gave her heart all the contentment it would ever desire,
By the window sill she sits, undisturbed, unscathed,

From the rest of the world, willingly detached,

Breathing in its scent, its story, 

Relishing every plot it cooks, to glory.

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Author: Annapurani Vaidyanathan

I hoard books for a living. And read them too, when I am not sleeping. I express what I think, so my unheard feelings don't sink. I like to sing when I walk, to keep shades grey, at bay. I speak like a dork, but I don't want to drive anyone away. I write what's real, and nothing fake, so visit my blog whenever you need a break ;)

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