I’ve always wanted to write a poem
One that people would admire and talk about
Something that would grasp someone’s attention
And I thought that if I read poems
Something would come to me
But I realized that it would have to be something very special
Because so many ideas have already been taken
So many words have already been used
They’ve already been used in all the right ways
In the right order, and in the right circumstances
Feelings have already been let out
And hearts have already been broken and healed
Friends have already been made and lost
Siblings have been born,
And grandparents have passed
Words have been used that I have to stop and think about
With metaphors and similes that make me jealous of the imaginative mind
And personification that gives me a “Eureka” moment
The scenes have been beautiful or lost or dark and cold
I have been transported everywhere
And their poems seem to understand people
And form a connection with us
Yet they are original, and can only be written by that one person
No one can write that same poem
And if they did it would mean something else to them
Like people, no poem is alike
And as I write this I realize that it sounds cheesy
And I once again wish that I could write this the right way
And have a better simile than
The “No snowflake is the same” theme
I don’t have a good ending for this
No graceful last words or self-forgiving apologies
No last clever line
So here it is, just plain and clear: The End