I wish my life was a book,

And I was the author.

I wish I could erase bad days,

And write in good ones.

I wish I could edit it over and over.

Proofread it and make sure everything's perfect.

No spelling errors.

No punctuation mistakes.

No repeating words.

I wish people loved my book so much,

They would run out and buy it.

Maybe hope I would sign it.

Even wait for a sequel.

But wishes don't come true.

We all know that.

After all, we just hope on a burning ball of fire for a better reality.

For a book that wasn't meant for people to like, or buy, or get signed.

We're the books on the back of the shelves.

Dusty and broken.

Always put back once the first page is read.

No one ever discovers the rest of our pages.

I wish someone would just read the rest of my story.