There’s an unfinished poem in my drafts file.
Apparently I wrote it last night.
I don’t remember writing it,
but while reading it, I remember having read it,
and that I was tired and was unable to finish it.
It reads like a crying child who was never
given the support they needed.
Which, makes sense.
Now, I don’t know if I want
to keep it exactly as it is;
to let it live the way it was born,
or to recreate the lines and ‘finish’ the work.
Maybe I’ll never read it again.
I don’t think that’s true though.
Something about it is already
alive and even if I don’t
publish it, the poem will still be.