I am to you like a book
Nothing more, nothing less
Insides filled with stories
For its writer to confess

I am a book with a spine
To hold my head up high
To keep me sturdy
And keep my aim towards the sky

Inside I am delicate and fragile
Like any other book’s pages
My thoughts written and splayed
From sorrows, joys, and rages

To my luck, I have a hard cover
Something to protect my heart
A shell to act as a foreshadow
To guard any climactic line or part

So I am to you like a book
Nothing more, nothing less
My insides filled with this story
For me to be able to confess