I understand now, why clouds don’t move when they are told
The wind never rests, life goes on, and I cannot keep a cloud to hold

When rom-coms move onto their next scene, I wake up in a blur
The stories that quickly pass are the ones in a frantic blend
But somewhere in the fold, I opened a book to its last chapter
I thought it was the beginning, but the beginning started at the end

I hate dropping books on the ground, yet some deserve a pummeling
I pick up the book again, only to drop it harder and send it tumbling

I hate finding books already broken because I cannot break them in
There are two stories in this book, one where I already know the ending
I chose to read the story without an ending with a glass of tonic and gin
Only to regret my choice, knowing the road less traveled is missing

Two plus one never ended with three, one had to stray away
The equilibrium must remain, no sentiments left to convey