ode to the bookshelf

i focused too much on muting
the voices in my head
that i forgot not listening
made a better option instead

i spent too much time strolling
and wasting much of my life
that i went for searching
some comfort in this strife

turns out what leaves me empty
is the lack of all that once
filled me up with happiness
is now sitting, gathering dust

how they yearn for hands to hold
to hold and adore their spine
yet still pages will unfold
for every passerby

they know how it feels
to be alone and ignored
they’ve watched me walk by
into the same sand storm

many years since after
all of the promises i broke
i find myself speaking to
the only ones who know

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