Truly

I used to like a particular book. And I was used to reading it like, everyday. It was nothing novel, maybe that was why I liked it. But after a while, that book got worn out. Because other people kept reading it as well, in a manner I could never comprehend. Well some lip stretching was enough to deceive. Temper flared but not excessively. People wouldn’t simply let that book outta their palms I wonder why. I’d tried the best I could to retrieve. That came out effortlessly. Annoyed, I thought I should let it be what it should have been.

I’ve some other books. Thick. Comic. Good. Those books say loyalty.

One day, someone returned it, that book with everyone’s handprint on it. It looks different now. Some of the pages are torn out. The story is ruined. Yet I read on. Scarcely able to finish the rest. Now where are my other books. Funny I think I’m losing them all. Because of this one book I’ve had in hand.

~ by Shi on April 20, 2008.