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BELONG
Your existance was based upon love,
so was the book that sat upon your shelf.
I reckon you're fully your own,
nothing is truly based upon itself.
You found yourself based upon a hobby,
you weren't just born as you are.
Your beauty was surreal to me,
I dare to believe it was based off of something bizarre.
My love for you was irreplicable,
and it grows; as do the plants around.
My love was based off of nature's love,
so chaotic, yet without a sound.
A poem you may read often,
was, more certainly so, once a thought.
Literature was added and thus the result,
its root words were what you forgot.
Your existance was based upon love,
love from one person to another; nobody else.
I reckon you're fully your own,
nothing is truly bases upon itself.
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At 3:21 a.m., my thoughts appear and I begin to write involuntarily. This is one of my midnight works.