My poems for Harry
I
When my life turns bad I escape to the magic of the fire place
Instead operating rooms
I let fantastical creatures and places transform my soul
Not doctors transform my heart
I put aside for an instant harsh reality's bathed in darkness
And journey to an author's salvation to the masses
Not the intensive care unit
Here I can have butter beer instead of breathing machines
I can ride broom sticks free and wonderful
Not gurneys and hospital beds
I can travel to castles full of life and joy
Not hospitals full of pain and horrors
Eat till I burst, in this world no one starves
Not be feed through my stomach
I can forget about being attacked by my heart
And the suffering of my family
And get attacked by wonderful creatures of lore
Not by phenomena and bed sores
Here I can truly love my friends and family
Awake this time far from the comas grip
And they will love me back
Like Harrys friends love him
Here I can be implanted with magical knowledge
Not a pacemaker
In this world all my scars are healed
Here I have to live with them
But when times for me are bad
Like times get bad for Harry
When all hope for us seems lost
Theres a world that we can dream of
Far from the voldermolts and bad hearts
A place that we both believe exists
A place called
Whimsy
A place called escapism
A place called fantastic
A place called Harry
A place called
Hope
