If I were a book
They’d say I was written for first graders
Because I’m so easy to read
But they would read me in college students
Because they were just reading my roots
In between the lines you’ll the see the stems
That lead into my blossoms
The blossoms that are my laughs, my smiles,
My joy and excitement
That came from my roots in the dirt I call my problems.
If I was a book I would have more sets than an encyclopedia
More words than a dictionary
More editions than a bible
And more sequels than Harry Potter
If I was a book I would have pages and chapters missing
Because when people leave me they take a piece of them with
Some more than others,
But I would remember what those pages and chapters said
Even if the teacher said not to talk about them
Because those parts didn’t matter or were too much to handle.
I, the book, would still remember
If I was a book, I’d be more organized
I would have things figured out
And I would know my outcome
So maybe I’m more like a rough draft
Scattered all over someone’s desk that they work on in the dark of the night
And that’s why it’s so hard for me to sleep sometimes.
Maybe that’s it.
I’m a rough draft waiting to published.