Forgotten Book
Another year, I’m here all by myself. Another book forgotten on the shelf. My
pages are tattered and torn, worn from years of abuse. I’m quietly waiting to be
picked up again. To be read and loved. I’m patiently hoping to feel the touch of a
gentle caress upon my spine. I’ll feed your mind if you feed mine. Look past my
cover. I know it’s not a pretty thing. Look past my cover, past the decay and utter
ugliness. You know they say you can’t judge a book by its cover, so please, just
give me a glance. Look inside of me and give me the chance to show you what I
am and what I mean.
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