Untitled

by raince

If I were a sentence, I would end with a question mark.

If I were a mathematical problem, my answer would be “try again” because the formula you used wouldn’t apply to me.

If I were a book, I would not have a coherent plot line.

If I were a genre, I would not fall into just one.

If I were money, I may have value buy you would not be able to buy a lot with me. But you would keep me.

If I were a form of art, I would have lines that are abstract, filled with colors that are imaginary; may not be pretty but I’d guarantee that you’d stare.

If I were a poem, I would be redundant

But you still wouldn’t understand

Because I make no sense

And–

What’s next?

Who knows? Or cares?

I am a question with varying solutions

And no permanent answer.

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