My Book Poem by Beating Tree
My Book
There's a page in my book, I can't seem to read.
The pages slash my fingers, if I try to skip ahead.
To learn this language of symbols & letters unknown to me, is what I need.
The book of crying, is what makes red ink, until the day I'm dead.
There's a page in my book, I can't seem to make bleed.
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5/4/2024 7:41:06 AM # 1.0.0.1119
