and I marveled at what downess is in books,
the saddest leaves I'd put up to the top
where every day a lonely message stuck
sore, like something fresh out of my own mind,
never yellow spines that would make me feel green
and over again, the light of un-learned words'
I have to say, sometimes the message hurt,
it's better to forget the unintended
forgive me if I put them on the shelf
now, differently, like something I haven't seen.