Books & Reality

I just want to smother my face in a book
The characters are fictionally true
And they can't be disappointed in you
Nothing seems to enter your mind
Except the black lettering printed deep within its cover
There is no jealousy of how it is read or how often it is picked up
You can accidently bend the pages and there is no cry
Or you can purposely bend them to refer back to something that touched you
The cover does not speak of what's inside
It's just the casing for what lies within
The words do not lie, and they do not change their minds
They are set in key and will not be altered
The details are given for purpose
You may not love the book
But as with anything else you never know what you will love
Until you give love a chance
For days you can contemplate the ending
You can rush to that or take your time
As with life you hopefully will not want to rush to the end but live in the moment
With life is changes and emotions till it reaches its end
Many books for one life
Many page for each day
Many words for each hour
And punctuation for each sentence
I want to bury my face in a book
When everything else is consuming my thoughts
To rid it of the negativity
To become more sincere to my own self
And once I've calmed all of these thoughts
I can breath, I can see, I can hear more clearly
It was the moment within the pages that can help me capture
The lettering within or the voices around me.