Today, A friend asked me, "Would you write a poem on me?" . . And I wondered what it feels To be written as a poem. I wondered, what it feels To no longer be a mortal To know you'll live forever In words of a poet who once, Or forever, cared for you. I wondered if I was written a poem For me, about me, Would they write about how I liked my presentation in a shade of blue Or about how I write my notes With an ink that matched my chocolate wrapper. Would they write about how I broke my resolution within a day And made resolutions about keeping resolutions Or about how I never broke my promises Or about how I broke down after realising That a relationship I admired was Only painted in pinks and yellows But was just another form of abuse. Would they write about how Sometimes I rant about you, Sometimes I rant about society Or sometimes just stay so silent That they wonder if I lost my voice. Would they write about the poems I wrote Or the stories I shared, Would they write ...