Broken Puzzle

Not a Book

I could have lied…

But I also could have told the truth.

But manipulation seemed like a better excuse.

To be normal?

Of course I never was.

So why this one thing?

Why not be a book

For the world to read.

And I suppose I was,

In a way.

But if I’m any book,

I’m the one on the shelf that opens the secret door.

So people never try to read me

Because they’re more worried about a secret tunnel.

So I sit on a shelf collecting dust in between my pages.

But that’s just a silly metaphor.

Because if I was a book

Then I would probably know the truth about myself.

While the book to the secret tunnel

May manipulate the world as just a prop.

It never manipulates itself.

Because written words are honest.

It’s the ones in my head that I dread.

So I could have told the truth

And I could told myself a lie.

But instead I choose another way.

That make me sit perfectly,

Then crumble,

And die…