She painstakingly keeps her mind in the place where her heart should be
while her homeless heart dangles anxiously from the end of her sleeve
She sits in solitude while she waits for something magical to happen
feeding off of tragic yet mesmerizing fairy tales in the meantime.
She doesn't understand the world around her a fraction of the way she should
Yet she knows the halls of Hogwarts as if she herself were the marauders map
She's a well-rounded catastrophe delicately camouflaged by countless library books Reading patiently.
Awaiting the completion of her very own dramatic fairy tale of a life.
Dreading the mysterious ending that haunts her everyday
She only hopes that once its finished she can say that,

She couldn't have written it better herself.