Poem

52 9 4
                                    

Out of all the things out there
I wish I could be a poem.
Written beautifully with love
And composed with hearts.
Not a random thought,
Locked inside the analytical cage.
Not a tragic story,
Ending with someone's death.
Not an unread letter
Waiting for someone to touch or spell.
Out of all this out there
I wish I could just be a poem,
Made of words, meant to be read.

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