Books Can't Hold a Conversation

If I were stuck on a desert island and I think of what I’d need

I think a lot of people underestimate what they’d need to succeed

In keeping themselves alive,

happy, and sane.

When people answer this question they’ll just give you the name

Of a book that they like, or a dollar amount

That might get them off the island if the chance came around,

But the honest truth is that most of that’s shallow and small,

And reading your favorite book wouldn’t keep you happy at all.

 

What I think I’d need is just a person, anyone.

I don’t have to know who they are but I need just one

Other being to keep my consciousness from getting off track.

One other person because to be totally honest I lack

The ability to keep myself occupied.

If I’m alone the world would just seem too wide,

And unfamiliar.

 

Lonely and unhappy, just with my thoughts,

Driving myself to insanity, thinking I could unlock

Some existential part of me that doesn’t exist,

Or reminiscing about the people I used to know --

 

Who I miss.

 

I think that people can’t say that they would need someone else.

The human condition is focused so much on the self.

I’ll be the first to admit

That if I was alone

I wouldn’t last

A week,

A month,

Maybe a year at the most.

 

My very existence depends on others.

My sister, my brother, my father, my mother

My friends, my teachers, everyone around

Has had such a profound

Effect on who I have found

Myself to be.

I couldn’t live without it.

I say this without hesitation,

because books can't hold a conversation.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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