Misfired logic of criticism 

​All the genres of written utopia

Never asked to be stratified.

They were born to simply feed

The chosen soul it’s required meal. 


Nostalgia to an ripened soul, 

Inspiration to the misguided folds. 

Sprinkle of love to the barren fields, 

Door to the unknown 

For those in search of productive yields. 


They never asked for your judgement,

Never beseeched or impelled  you to select them. 

They never cried for indulgence, 

Never sneaked

Unless you laid your eyes on one.


Every word born, 

Uncovers a variant meaning to individuals. 

The book that’s a waste of time for you, 

Might be the best of all time for someone on the other side. 


If you have forgotten 

Let me enlighten your mind,

Every book walks in with a window

For a quick peak through time… 

Read the back cover. 

For god’s sake, it exists! 


So don’t pick one until you want it,

And if proven to be a mistake

Remember it was yours, 

Not the book you read. 

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