People are like books, which we love to read.

Words are actions, and illustrations are deeds.

            Each person is a chapter, in our book.

Each chapter begins and ends, yet they change our outlook. 

Each page is a memory;

Each ink blot our thoughts; we turn to our favorite pages

 and dog-ear them down.

Sometimes our least favorite memories, we try to tear out,

But they still changed our story, of that there’s no doubt.

            We are covered and bound by family and friends;

Stitched together by love; they keep us fresh from beginning to end.

At times our jackets fray, and we are covered in dust,

But our true friend will keep us safe enough.

Sour worms of bitterness may try to corrupt us,

And may try to severe ties,

But those bitter worms are only ugly lies.

We are storybooks, longing to be read.

We all have pasts and hopes, and wishes too large to cope.

Each person is a story

Each precious and unique,

The only difference between us and books,

Is that we can choose to speak.