I Write Poetry
A novel you are for the ages
With worn in yellow pages
Every turn a new piece
Of you
Your topics abound
And your cover astounds
Even if it is tattered and worn
It’s still you
Dust covered, high upon a shelf
Forgotten by anyone but yourself
Try as you might to edit it alone
You cannot hide, you
Bookmarks riddle this story
Some chapters dense and gory
We see glimmers of hope
Because it’s you
And this book is not alone
For a library has been sewn
Stories collected from wishes
To figure out, you
For now, you sit and write
A prose riddled of foresight
With imagination run amok
To make a better you
What this author failed to see
The flaws delivered its beauty
The viscous theme of this work
Because you are you
With worn in yellow pages
Every turn a new piece
Of you
Your topics abound
And your cover astounds
Even if it is tattered and worn
It’s still you
Dust covered, high upon a shelf
Forgotten by anyone but yourself
Try as you might to edit it alone
You cannot hide, you
Bookmarks riddle this story
Some chapters dense and gory
We see glimmers of hope
Because it’s you
And this book is not alone
For a library has been sewn
Stories collected from wishes
To figure out, you
For now, you sit and write
A prose riddled of foresight
With imagination run amok
To make a better you
What this author failed to see
The flaws delivered its beauty
The viscous theme of this work
Because you are you
