Don’t judge me by my cover, I’m an open book.
Don’t be shy, come on over, take a little look.
Ev’ry page, ev’ry word, there to skim and browse,
just for you, hell! I don’t mind, read it out aloud.
I’ve undressed her a thousand times
It’s not hard to read my mind:
Ink stained words, faded pages, time takes its toll,
a once straight spine, broke and bended, still glues the whole.
I ain’t proud of all the chapters, what’s written must remain.
It’s how it is, my book of life, journaled every day.
At the end, fallin’ apart, maybe even burned,
black and parched, fragments fly of pages never turned.
Take your chance, while you can, read all about it!
A work of fiction? Some half-truths? (Semi-)autobiographic?
©5.8.2019 Andrew Robert Chapman