Perhaps among all the barricades I could have held

Perhaps among all the barricades I could have held, I was born to be read once and never to be opened again. To be glanced at in passing, but never the one who turns heads. To be a writer and never the one written about. To immortalize the beauty I find in others, But only to fall under the shadows of my own mortality. Perhaps the simplicity of my existence is what brings comfort to the main character. To become a poet and never an imperishable poem. Capturing words from a glance as they pass by me, To catch the hooks under the bright sunlight. Perhaps among all the barricades I could have held, I was born only to be read once and never to be opened again. And somewhere in the chaos, I learned to live with grace. In a world of shadows and lights, where stars fade and are reborn, I stand at the edge of time, a poet draped in melancholy. The barricades of my life, invisible walls, have held me in place, I was born to be read once, a book lost in dust and silence. Glanced at in passing, but never noticed, a shadow among lights, In a world of turned heads, I remain unseen, a writer of silence. There are no writings about me, for my words are for others, The beauty I find, I immortalize in them, but I remain ephemeral. The simplicity of my existence, a refuge for the heroes of my stories, I am the poet, but never the immortal poem, Words pass by me, I catch them, enclosing them in verses, Sunlight envelops them, but I remain in the shadows. Perhaps among all the barricades I could have held, I was born to be read once and never to be opened again. And somewhere in the chaos of life, I learned to live with grace, a melancholic poet draped in metaphors. In a world full of noise, I listen to the silences, Finding my peace in the chaos, beauty in the ephemeral. And perhaps, among all the barricades, I am just a poet, read once and forgotten forever.