I like leather bound books

Filled with papyrus pages

Covered in pounce dried ink

I like leather bound books

Maybe that’s hard to understand?

Because a leather bound book I think of

Is not the same book you think of

Nobody thinks like I think or you think

And I just have to accept that

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Because lately it’s been easier to lie than explain

That my brain operates on a different wavelength

And I have these thoughts that don’t work on paper

Because I don’t think with the words that people use

You can’t copy and paste creativity

Am I the only one who can tell when things sound pat?

I write to survive and I share just because

Even though I’m afraid of the hate and the laughs

Because fear is cheap

But at least love is free

And that was so cheesy I threw up a bit

But I still believe it

So I guess I disgust myself

I don’t write for me

Because I don’t deserve good things

I can’t explain why

But I like leather bound books

Waiting on a shelf and wanting to be special