Printed stories on my body,
I know I become something
When I am read,
I erupt in words
And read someone else’s misery.
I stink,
But ask a lover
How to smell,
They leaf through me
To find secrets from their hell.
Few know I too am a creator,
Created by humans,
I stow all kinds of love –
The more, the less and the without.
Don’t burn me,
Don’t tear me,
I might not be strong
But I am someone’s sweat.
I gather no nods for myself
For I am a chiseled version of my home,
I wouldn’t exist if I hadn’t left.
I narrate tales off my flesh,
With a purpose unlike you lot,
And I have been serving it,
Even after my extinction.
You will remember me
As I remember all the faces carved on me,
That there was someone who knew
How to be quiet in a babbling world,
And who spoke only to listeners.
I fight better when I am
Bedecked with letters –
My weapons of trust.
I move mountains
When I am with a friend,
I draw a blank
Often when I am with none,
But I still offer my soul
To a thinking brain.
My life is someone else’s
To make,
Is yours too?
I make sure no one forgets
What took place
When memory fails them.
I have it all in me,
Every writer’s sorrow,
Every dreamer’s will,
I plan to keep them close to my heart,
They are the ones worth reading.