Everything I say, write, think-
Has already been said, written, thought.
Sure, I can wrap it nicely, neatly, or not,
But someone else thought of it first.
Nothing feels original and that’s the greatest
Sin of all.
But these are just words.
Letters made up lines and curves.
Stories made up of plots and twists.
But the concept has already been
Even this one.
No life is quite as original
As first thought.
No person quite so special
As mother taught.