Open Book

I am an open book,

Every word carefully written,

A collection of 26 alphabets,

Spelling everything my heart believes.

A few words are loud,

In all "CAPS",

Others are timid, shy,

Combining to form every emotion that makes me.

Yet I lay here,

Collecting dust,

Under a fat, marked cover,

Something no one wants to read.

I used to be on a shelf,

high up, in reserved section,

Now I am on a table,

Out in open, for everyone to see.

Yet, of course,

No one ever bothered to pay

any attention to me.

I've tried my best,

made every page,

as good as it can be.

But it didn't help, 

for a book is always,

Judged by its cover, they see.

I even fell,

I fell for someone,

Very recently.

Hopeful,

that he might be the one,

the one who finally reads,

But alas,

the cover seems,

is still too heavy,

For he didn't take me with him either,

Just dusted me off,

And gently placed me back on a shelf,

Waiting to be seen...........