because some of us are lost library books
desperately yearning to be found
that we'd be stripped of our plastic coverings and expiration date stickers
our reviews were much too harsh
and sometimes our bindings were the only thing keeping us intact
we were borrowed and used, but mostly used
no one wanted to read our seventeenth chapter out loud,
but neither did we
we were checked out by reader's who didn't notice our figurative language
who found our metaphors to be merely minuscule,
when so anxiously our pages longed to be understood
and some of us are just lost library books
and maybe we'll be found on an antique store shelf in fifty years
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