Thoughts while living in books.

I wish I was an idea,

Born into a mind

Brought into fruition

On the surface of a blank page.

I wish my story was written

Not lived

That these tears were a figment

Of an author’s imagination

Not a faint wetness

on my skin.

I wish my life was a book

And someone would write

me

a happy ending.

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2 thoughts on “Thoughts while living in books.”

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