The book

I wrote a book about 10 years ago 

although unlike my life it’ll never end

unlike my life it’ll never be broken

never need to mend

it’ll sit on the shelf next to its friend

never alone with only itself to fend

I wrote a book 10 years ago

it’ll never be fake, decieve my heart

it’ll never be finished although it had a start

never have reason to leave the shelf

what’s the reason to read a book 

without a finish never requiring a second look.