Open Book

I am like any other book.
Opened. Read. And given a value.
But do you really?

You see the title.
You glanced, decide and choose.
Do you really?

You open me, read and understand.
The little words and sentences you see,
do you really know the meaning?

You gave me a value.
Like tool's role in a shed.

Did you really saw everything?

I let you see.
What I let you see.
I don't need you to see. 
What those pages really mean.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Your words are very true. I believe no-one know me. It is scary to show the world who we truly are.
"I let you see.
What I let you see.
I don't need you to see.
What those pages really mean."
I believe writers do share a part of themselves. Never everything. Did anyone know Hemingway? Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote