Am I an author
with potential volumes to my name?
Could you look for me
on thrift store shelves
chancing to find my second-hand fame?
Am I a reader
consuming all you have to give?
Can I buy enough of you
to inspire yet another volume
of the exciting worlds in which you live?
Am I a character
stuck within the pages bound?
Do I begin and end
between wherever you start reading
and the point where you set my story down?
Do I exist at all
in your precious reality?
Or am I just a depiction
of who you are glad you aren’t
as you continue your real life without me?