I wish I wrote that song,
The one about the girl
Who falls in love with the boy at the falafel shop.
And the one
About the boy and the girl
Who grow apart
And together again.
I wish I wrote that song
About a boy and a girl
And another boy
Who knows he won't be loved
But thinks they'll have beautiful children.
Or even better, that song about a station.
You know, the one that never really meant a train.
I wish I wrote that song.
That song about life
And death
And the scars it leaves on your body and soul.
I wish that I had written those words
That so beautifully tell the story
Of a boy who will live forever
And a girl who simply cannot.
And what about that song
About a boy
Who fights to be himself?
Doesn't that one tell my story, too?
Why didn't I write it?
And then there's that song I did write.
With clumsy words
And a rough melody.
It's not as beautiful
Or smooth
Or exquisite
As all the songs, all the words, all the stories
That didn't come from my mind.
They didn't come from my beaten-up notebook,
Full of illegible scribbles
That mean nothing to anyone but me.
My shaking tune
And blunt mumblings
Will never be as flawlessly worded
As all the strangers' thoughts
Spun into songs.
My words
That capture my thoughts
Aren't special to me
Because it's only special when someone else understands.
So I have to hope that someone else
Will understand.
Because otherwise, all of my words
Will amount to nothing
And none of it will mean anything at all.
Points: 236
Reviews: 53
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