I wish to be more
than just A book tittle that has no meaning to you.
Surely the story of my life can conjure up some deeper feelings?
But then
How can it.
When I cant see the beauty in the pages binded to me.
How can I expect you, a stranger to believe me worthy of being more than just a blank sheet of paper rested within an old dusty forgotten book.
Left upon a shelf were no one ever seems to look.
Crying out for someone to turn those pages and see something worth reading.
Worth analysing closely.
Satisfying your time while reading my heart and soul within each line.
Can I grab your attention?
I’m up here
Shake of the dust, open this sealed book and take look.
I can’t promise that you will like every page that you read.
Some chapters more painful than others.
Feeding you my truth with each blood inked line.
Im Hoping somewhere our stories can intertwine.
That this old dusty forgotten book will be your greatest find.
Can you hold it within your hands And understands its worth?
For I may need reminded that my pages deserved to be turned.
Please can you keep this book as unreturned?