Burned... Poem by Derry Dose

How sad these filled up pages look,
The text on its front,
And on its back,
too different For the world to guess,
The roughness of its touch,
The roughness in the voice,
It tells a story of every choice,
It holds them like a bond,
Many thoughts and what they sought,
Skip the page,
unsee the words,
It's still a book,
It will hold every phrase,
Marks of pencil do get smudged,
But the ink will remain,
Unless the book is burned...