I am a book that everyone seems to understand. 

They simply skim me, and they think they know who I am.

They look at my face and only see what they want.

I am simply looked over and then completely forgot.

I am a book with so much to share, 

But am not given a chance, not even a care.

I am the pages that fit so perfectly together.

I go through trials that seem to lead one after the other. 

Each part of my life seems to write the next page

Of my very own story which is both joy and pain.

These hardships are what make me all that I am. 

I am the pages that have a beginning and end. 

I am the words on the page that flow with life and longing.

I laugh, I cry, I smile, I love, I live my life to the fullest.

My words constantly express how much I truly care, 

And all the emotions that build and beg to be shared.

They show my imperfections but that makes me human.

I am the words, and I decide all that I will become. 

I am the words.

I am the pages. 

I am the book of my own story,

But only those who choose to look

Will find all that my life holds.

It is precious, and it is all that I truly am.