Left open for me to read. The cover allures me. I finger your pages to catch a glimpse and the hidden treasures inside. Worn, many hands have traced your face. Lips have craved your words to fall from them. Your story is an old one. I know it well. I know you well. How you rise. Fall. Resurrect. Conquer. Devastate. You are the trickster and the fallen son. A contradiction in your own lines. I read you. Memorize you. Become your words. That is where I find meaning, truth, and enlightenment. It's not in what you say, but what you haven't said. Your ending is written.
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