I live in a home where all the books lay on shelves. They sit there a plead, to be read by me. New book each day, never running out of space, in this big brain.
Words on a page fill up the empty place, in my home. A library of it's own, be sure to stay quiet though, for it's still a library.
A library of memories, a library of records, a library of thoughts, and a bunch of random lectures. Jumbled and mixed, sorted and clean, these are the different parts of my library.
Silent inside, because no one disturbs my peace. Running my mind, searching through time, cannot stop the crying. Drowning out society with a bunch of different variety's.
This is my library and it's legendary.