Drowning Stars | Poetry

6 | torn up book

Like a battered old book, she sat on a dusty shelf in a corner in the back of a library.

She had not been picked up in ages.

Nobody was interested in her torn up cover.
No one would look beyond her damaged case long enough to see what was written on her pages and what was written between her lines.

She held such a beautiful story though, with chapters too intense and too lush.
She hid a thousand secret and a million smile and a billion scar, all raw and vulnerable, all waiting to be read.

Nobody cared though.

So she stayed and watched all the other delicate books being chosen, being loved and being adored.

She came to realise that she would never have the same again.
She knew no one would look at her the same way all the other glossy books were looked at.

All the battles she had been through have damaged her.
Every single battle left a mark on her.
A crack in her spine, tears in her pages and dents in her cover.

She thought she should hide her imperfections.
She thought no one was supposed to see them.
She was too ashamed to wear them with pride.
"I'm just a torn up book", she said.

Little did she know, she was the loveliest book of all.
She didn't know she was the strongest.
She had no idea she was the only book that mattered; the only book that went through hell and still did not have her pages set on fire.

She did not know it though and did not want to believe it either.

So she lifted herself up, turned her spine and back to the library and wept.. letters of agony and rivers of poems of despair..

And with a final tear, she decided what her last chapter would be.
With ink mixed with blood and tears, she wrote the last two words of her story.
"The End", the last line read..
And then she closed her pages forever, never to be read again..

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With love,