To:

Why are people made of plastic
and I write poems about it with misspellings
of pen and pencils trying to collaborate
and communicate on thoughts
I’ve already expressed

Wrote mountains over
Road mountains over
Each line to show you to
read how I think of you
But you’ve never stopped to
Consider that each word

is about you

So I’ve thought of just
telling you, with your name embedded but
You’re inanimate
made of plastic with the heart melted
uncaring for words
and you’ve known brainless
I love you
You’ll never admit it

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