I am like a book,
You\'ll have to read me page by page
And even then, you\'ll have to decipher and interpret.
You\'ll find out who I am by not
Judging me through my covers.
I will open, but not if forced.
You may leave me on the highest shelf to collect dust once you realize you have paper cuts.
I am like a book,
Filled with typos and incorrect grammar,
With yellowing pages and stains in my creases,
but I am still
intact.
My spine may bend, but I won\'t break easily.
You\'ll find out who I am when you
Stick around to patiently peel apart my stuck-together pages.
My mind needs unpacking and the truths within must be brought out from time to time.
Some pages are blank, but that doesn\'t
Give you an excuse to fill them in,
Because they\'re mine and being blank doesn\'t necessarily mean empty. Not exactly filled with pain nor symbolizing death,
Simply potential to be filled by the author.
I hold the pen, I write my life and if the pages are blank, don\'t question them, because I can\'t fill them in quite yet.
I am like a book,
My purpose and meaning evolve with time.
My ink may dissolve if I\'m immersed in water, but I\'ve always saved myself before I\'ve drowned. Before there was profound damage.
And when I recover, of course I\'ll have scars, but what authentic book doesn\'t?
My pages will be stiff and my words may be unintelligible, but even so, it\'s merely a few words from my story.
-m.