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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #929001
A poem about how I felt when my sister called me a closed book. Please review it?!
'You are a closed book.'
I am?
I did not know.
I thought my cover was open,
pages turning,
words continuously being writ.
This may be but not under
the light of people's glances
as I had imagined,
but in secret locations
hidden from view.

'You are a closed book.'
Maybe I am.
This I realise now.
I keep my pages of tormenting fear,
mislaid hopes
and quiet passions
veiled by a cover so blithe.
A cunning diversion many writers use.
Me?
Oblivious to my natural ability.

'You are a closed book.'
Yes I am.
I admit that it's true.
But I'm not a diary padlocked securely.
It just takes effort to lift my cover
and time to read the words
on these pages,
reluctantly mine.
My uninhibited writing
has a qualm about judgement.
Take heed of this when reaching for me.
Be gentle, please.
© Copyright 2005 blooming trees (greatgirl14 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/929001-Me