The tan cover is in tatters,

Nearly detached from

The spine in many places.

 

Inside the front cover

Is my name,

Written in blue ink

And shaky letters.

 

The pages are wrinkled,

The corners permanently bent

To mark my favorite parts.

 

Coffee has seeped into the

Fibers of the paper,

Staining the pages brown

Like parchment.

 

My cramped, messy writing

Is crammed between the lines.

Ideas and insights litter the pages,

Cluttering the book and

Making it hard to read.

 

This book is my life.

It was my journal,

My friend,

My escape.

 

Like my life,

It could fall apart at the seams.

But it will never be

Completely destroyed.

 

It is strong,

As strong as the story

It holds.

As strong as I believe

It is.

As strong as I believe

I can be.