As Yet Untitled

A world of imagination, beneath a paper skin.

Beatific made up things and unnamed horrors dwell within.

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Hidden as if by guiding hand

Between covers colourful and yet so bland

As each competes to draw the eye

To have to choose, oh why why why?

Every bookstore so bittersweet

For if only one more novel I could keep.

Unfortunately due to the shortness of this poem I was unable to post it without this note as RoyalRoad is not exactly built for a poetry archive. I fear that this note may become a common sight after each poem though I should at least be thankful I haven't written much in the way of Haiku.