A Novel Disease

Cliche: Reading a bad book

Is like a bad relationship.

At the end,

You feel like you’ve poorly invested

And wasted time.
Each book, a contagion. Spreading

And affecting each person differently.

You say, “Don’t you see the symbolism?

Isn’t it fantastic?” And I do see.

But the sentiment is lackluster

And the conviction needs tempering.
A sincere sensation

Turns to a monochromatic abyss.
But how would you know

Without the first read?
Still, I wonder,

Not what book would I love to enjoy last,

But, instead, what book

Would I die without reading?