No one knows the Secret in Me.
I stand on this shelf
Awaiting you to pick
Me and undress every page
And listen to me speak.
I don't stand on the stage
With a microphone: babbling words
To men of all age
But I silently await
Your fingers to caress
Me softly as I shower
Your mind with the knowledge
Hidden in me.
Am not crying for just
That know not my past.
I only brag
About the solitude
Of my tomb
Perceived only by me.
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