A/N: I don't know but I wanted to try my hand at a sort of poetic story... I didn't succeed. But I did write a crappy drabble/poem. Here it is:
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I am looking, out the window one of the compartments of the Hogwarts Express, observing what other people are doing.
I am looking, from my place in the back seat of the car, discovering how many shades of purple I can find in my uncles swollen face.
I am looking, from where I stand behind the stove, imagining what it would feels like to dance like the people do on my nephew's TV.
I am looking, at the ceiling of my cupboard, memorizing how many nails where used to secure every plank.
I am looking, at the sea, dreaming of just taking flight and never coming back.
I am looking, as I am dragged from my bed, evading the fists aimed at my face.
I am looking, at the flowers, thinking of setting them aflame.
I am looking, at the stars, longing for someone to take me away.
I am looking, at the carpet of my aunt's living room, bleeding as I am kicked again.
I am looking, at the Hogwarts Express, hoping I never have to go back.