Im a closed book
With a pretty cover
The pages on the other hand?
They're torn
Scribbled on and stained
And the stories have changed
Happiness is found in very few chapters
Whereas before
Every chapter held a fairytale
When you pick up this book Distracted
By the roses on the cover
Dont forget the thorns that lie beneath your grasp
They're poison
The longer you hold on
The more you'll wish you never tried to read what's beneath.
So leave this story.
Walk away
And never look back
It's always better to leave the damaged alone.
