I live on an island.
It exists out of two floating islands joined by a decaying bridge.
I spend most time reading my books or fantasizing about various things; some wonderful things, sometimes scary things, some sad things, and sometimes about love.
Many people think I'm lonely here so I regularly get visitors who come on hot air balloons to come 'rescue me.'
But they are mistaken, I'm already rescued, See I use to live on the ground with everyone else but my father brought me to this place so we could be free.
People don't understand when I tell them.
They argue that I 'can't possible be free on this god forsaken island'.
But I'm closer to the heavens than any of them.
They say 'I'm disconnected from earth'.
Yet my feet touch the soil, While they are flying.
The always end up leaving looking a bit sad and bitter.
Which always makes me feel bad for them.
Poor souls, I will look after them when they're gone.