Holding our stories on musty, dusty, wooden arms
Flowers of opportunity bloom
Off of its sides, curling like vines
It envelops our lives
Protective with its five white walls
Malicious with its open face
Allowing us to catapult ourselves
Ending our book so many pages too short
The world is like a bookshelf
Holding our history on elaborate, tasteful arms
Windows to our hearts sit
Crowded and overpopulated
It envelops our lives
Caring with its open acceptance
Resentful with its limited space
Only nourishing some
Only providing for some
The world is like a bookshelf
Holding our future on musty, tasteful arms
Flowers of opportunities lost
Wilt and fall down it's loving and unforgiving sides
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