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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #2314524
We all have a book that is written of us. My book is dark, that I will bring to light.
I'm that book, that sits on the shelf.
Collecting dust, stories of myself.

Some pages of love, most of pain.
Mistakes in life, with lots of shame.

It doesn't start from when I was born.
It begins when my life was torn.

Many chapters of loss, some victories.
There's even some of my life's mysteries.

Flip the pages, and search for the light.
This book is dark, and not so bright.

A page of me, when I felt the proudest,
Ends a time, I cried the loudest.

Wish I had moments, you read with a smile.
I struggled and struggled, for a long while.

We go through life, and write our book,
Not caring who takes a look.

Give it a good read, maybe you'll understand.
You shouldn't have judged me, beforehand.

Blow out the candle, and close the book,
Keep safe my secrets, that you took.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2314524-Dust-My-Book