although unlike my life it’ll never end
unlike my life it’ll never be broken
never need to mend
it’ll sit on the shelf next to its friend
never alone with only itself to fend
I wrote a book 10 years ago
it’ll never be fake, decieve my heart
it’ll never be finished although it had a start
never have reason to leave the shelf
what’s the reason to read a book
without a finish never requiring a second look.
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