Games

An emotion often floweth through my heart,

I would often sit for long to figure out what it is?

The blank walls painted crude pictures; I would often stare at.

The view outside the window was the only solace sometimes.

My head is quite a place.

Stories, I often weave like a spider net.

Games, I played a lot, in my head. 

My head was a step further,

The games it played, the net it wove.

I have spent more time inside my head then outside.

It is tiring living outside of it.

Too stressful,

I often go there for solace.