The book

This page is coloured white
For when my life began
And a rosy pink leather
Bound crisp and feathered end

And here on the ornate binding
A turn of a slight happy quill
I read and I write my life
The paper warps against my will

And here on this black page
A memory I dont want to see
And another sitting everywhere
All hidden inside of me

And if I dont remember
Do I just fold those pages away
Feel the thoughts and feelings
But dont remember on this given day

And the green pages are all happy
Because I had forgotten the black ones too
Just pretending they just did not happen
Forgetting what happened to you

And a leather bookmark stands here
Hidden directly in the spot
Of where my life and soul were taken
My life cut, and hidden in lots

And what if someone special
Were to seek out that book
And listen to the pages
Giving you such a hook

And slowly with their help
You turn the pages one by one
Discussing each memory slowly
The black ones, really not that much fun

So here in my book,
I let you see the pages for now
As you turn over the bindings
And furrow your hidden brow

And as we reach the end
It just starts up again
For I have forgotten thoughts
There is never any end