I am A

April 16, 2009
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I am a book that your gentle, caring hands
Gracefully open and then effortlessly
Close it and put it back on the shelf.

I am a rusty, old certificate left behind
The radiant shine of the shimmering trophies
In front of me, as you gaze and admire them.

I am a missed phone call.
I am a letter lost in the process of distribution.
I am a website that always loses your connection.
I am a soft, lonesome “Hello”.
I am a run-over stop sign.
I am an unplugged television.
I am an unoccupied bench.
I am a dead battery.
I am a

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This article has 3 comments. Post your own now!

Bria S. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jul. 2, 2009 at 12:20 am
I love how by the nearing end of the poem the message of forgotteness becomes clear in this poem. And I also love the fact that you left it open at the end for the reader to think and really excercise their brain. Asking themselves, "What would I have put there if I was the writer?" Or "What line would the writer finish with?" Anyway, excellent.
lexi10824 said...
Jul. 1, 2009 at 2:59 pm
:) It's good! Good JOb. I ThInK ThAt YoU sHoUlD wRiTe SoMe MoRe! <)*.*(>
lostinthought said...
Jun. 30, 2009 at 4:16 pm
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