The Book of WordsA Poem by Pale RoseA book does not speak, yet inside her there are words.
Black and white, obvious in the light. When closed she is all glossy paper, pictures, a title.Hidden by bindings, meaningless trappings. Her silence fools all those who gaze upon her. A quiet lover, humbly unlike any other. The cover she hides within misleads vacuous eyes. Worn and in disrepair, yet printed with such care. Inside are the words waiting, wanting, to be read. With a casual glance, you pass by instead. © 2011 Pale RoseAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on August 11, 2011 Last Updated on August 11, 2011 AuthorPale RoseAboutPoetry is the ultimate expression of humanity. It is the only tool we have to express the depth of our emotions and suffering. As for my own, I see the dark side of life and find it beautiful. I seek .. more..Writing
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