Past Due Date

 Oh,

forgotten literary tome.

You're as mythological

as a garden gnome.

You used to be accurate

one hundred percent of the time.

But now,

you can't even tell me

the difference of a chromosome.

You got digitized;

shredded:

misunderstood.

Used as a crutch

for our dead childhood.

Unrealized for years

like the allegories you help create.

A cluster of words with a foreign weight.

Waiting for the next generation

to figure out the past due date.