Books are overlooked by all,
Their covers left untouched as they
are left to watch you wlak past their walls,
their voices silec'd as ink fades away.
Their tears run colors and ruin pages,
their desperate pleas louder than their words
as all hope is lost, the nameless places
are brought back with you although less preferred.
Books are then revived with their last heartbeat.
feelings, histories, words, and phrases course
through its spine, willing you to feel complete
and to learn life lessons to reinforce.
whether by force or by choice, school books can speak
volumes and novels if you let them shriek.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Digging the jam You go gurl. NR~