The greatest poems have universal themes.
I will write one like that.
Today was a tiresome day.
I probably shouldn't have told you that.
What if you think it wasn't tiresome?
Worse, what if you think I don't think it was tiresome?
I suppose I must clear my head of all opinions.
Emotions too- nasty, interfering mumblejumbles!
No no. I am not imposing my thoughts on you.
You may well like emotions.
But then again, who am I to grant you that liberty?
I suppose I am too self-centred.
No matter how hard I try, I can't rid this poem of the personal touch.
Tell you what?
I'll leave it incomplete.
Yes, I'll leave a wonderful, empty blankness for you to fill in.
However, if you feel that the blankness is merely an optical illusion, I won't contradict you.
Is this even a poem?
Now that, is open to interpretation!
In fact, it can even be interpreted as NOT open to interpretation.
In which case......
MY PURPOSE HAS DEFEATED ITSELF!
I have reached my conclusion.
A conclusion that is definite, specific, individualistic, UNCHANGEABLE, and BEYOND contest.
I can't do this.