I'm not good at titles

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I'm not sure how one would go about summarizing an already short poem so I find myself lost for words in this little description box

Submitted: June 26, 2016

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Submitted: June 26, 2016

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Whatever spoonful of sunlight people seem to dream of,

Has surely missed my mouth entirely,
And spilt across memories that ache.
Dreams of angel wings that transpire into rotting wood via the misuse of the word love.
An isle of treasures I so foolishly passed by,
Not batting an eye nor deeming it worthy of a second glance,
Oh what the fool I am.
I had all the keys,
Found all the locks,
But stuffed my pockets with regret and sadness only I could have placed there.
I walked on,
Passed all the things I could've had,
In search of a home.
But a voice in my head beckoned,
That I had already found it.
And I burned it to the ground out of fury.


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