She sat,
watching the clock.
But she wasn’t really watching at all.
She simply gazed ahead
With no idea of the time.
Surrounded by voices,
With no idea what they were saying.
She was completely blocked off
from the rest of the world.
Her body,
a brick wall,
trapping a secret world inside of her.
As the clock hands ticked in front of hazy eyes,
she watched the little people inside her mind.
The people working in her library.
The people burning stories out of anger.
The people filing away, and labeling new books.
New experiences.
New people.
The ones huddled together around a table,
brainstorming new ideas.
Those were the ones who kept her up at night,
always working better
when everyone else was quiet
and asleep.
She watched as so much happened in so little time.
She saw the pile of books and paper in the corner.
That nobody wanted to touch.
The pile that contained all her responsibilities
building up,
that everyone was ignoring.
She watched as the workers dug around in old books,
retrieving memories.
Re-surfacing a haunting image.
That will not be pushed to the back of the shelf again
in a very
long
time.
While she watched them work,
the clock ticked away.
But she was completely unaware.
Lost in her library.
Her own world.
Lauren Kathleen 
Your poetry is very impressive! Good to meet you the other day.
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Thank you so much! It was great meeting you as well, your work is very inspirational.
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