The Open Book

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An open book they tell me I am .

If you can read me so easily, how is it you do not really see?

Is it that my emotions read so clearly on my face, that you chose not to look deeper?

Or is it pride in yourself that keeps you from saying what the microexpressions read?

What is it that says I’m so fine?

I’d like to know.

Or does it say something’s wrong?

But you won’t let it show.

My open expressions, are hiding what’s underneath.

What’s hurting my inside, so very deep?

If I’m an open book, than how do you not know-

All my secrets-

For this is a show.

How can you not know?

So if I am an open book,

What are you?

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