My soul is like a peace of paper; white and light and soft and new.

My friends are like the pages; close enough to feel the pain, but like a page they too can turn away, who new.

My hope is like the binding, so strong and true, never shifting or even changing when dropped and kicked by a shoe.

My dreams are like the cover; sturdy and beautiful, but still judged by all who looked.

Not a second glance inside to try and get hooked.

The life I lived, the life they took, to them was just another life, just like a book.

Now I have moved and made a new life for my self, my whole world shook.

My new life and I happier then could be.

Though I am mostly alone no hate could ever find me.

My life is like a book that I will continue to write.

Probably now, all about how I would like to go fly a kite.