Closed Books
Closed book Am I the only one? That feels completely undone? As I look, I feel like every one is a closed book. All sharing smiles, All we really want to do is run away for miles. Yet we stand there and shake hands, Talking about the latest bands. Waiting inside stories untold, Of pain rust and mold. All the hurt that has been given, We try to keep it hidden. Though when we're alown, We groan. With the fear, Of not being dear. All the things done wrong, Viberate in my head like a big Chinese gong. It won't allow me to let go, The guilt and shame just seems to grow. They are listed one by one, Oh what have I done! But stop and listen to us talk, You'll hear a prep, punk, or jock. Why do we hide, What we have inside? Why are we so embarrassed? It's not like these things are cherished! Heave a deep sigh, Some how some way we are going to get by. Maybe we should take a moment to deeply look, Find a key and OPEN the CLOSED book.