I was like a book on a shelf, long forgotten, closed and dusty;
Was so used to being alone with my words whitch to me was rusty.
It was normal for me and i was convinced i was happy at life;
Til one day i was opened up by someone i could see as a wife.
She read almost every page within me and made me feel happy at best;
But then she stopped reading and placed me on the shelf with the rest.
To be continued
