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That Thirst and Hunger for Words

While others are out there
Exploring a country, a city,
An ocean, a mountain,
I drown myself in books

Whether it’s heartbreak
Or grief or anger
Or even the petty spark
Of irritation or annoyance

I always turn to books
It was always books
Those never failed me
Even the ones I ended up not liking

When all social encounters
Are obliterated by
Alcohol and jokes and conversations,
I turn inward, I turn to books

Be it happiness or giddiness
Or heartache or emptiness
Or even that tidal wave of
Loneliness or feeling much too much

It was books
It will always be books
And next to that is writing
It will always be books and writing

There’s a hunger for words
That I choose to pursue,
My mind thirsty for things untold
In the form of sentences and paragraphs

While others explore the world
Because of heartbreak or plain curiosity
Or perhaps to seal that loneliness,
I find myself with a book, alive and in my element.


About Anna

Awed/delighted/floored with anything horror. Indulges in chocolates, blogging, writing, and reading. Attracted to the offbeat and the quirky / the odd and the strange / the weird and the eerie.


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