I don’t have treasures, emeralds, rubies, or gold

Or anything that could fill up the feelings inside
I’m like a book missing its cover
Used by all who live in this rushing world,
People full of vain dreams and desert thoughts,
People who cannot see anything close to them anymore.
I have thousands of pages, some are white still…
For those who want their secrets to be bought
I’m not hiding, I’m on display, ready to be sold,
Ready for my pages to be written,
Ready to finally have a table of contents
With all these feelings so hard to unfold.
© Copyright
2012 Razvan Iancu
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