I’m not a picture with filters,
I’m not a movie with fillers.
I’m more than a status update,
And I have a more old-school state.
My cover makes me look sound, polite, and still.
I promise, those are taught skills.
“Be quiet!” “No one cares.” “Nerd.”
My title will most often get blurred.
Where do I begin and where do I stop
When I’ve been taught I’m only a prop.
I’m not the only one, I understand,
But each must know their own brand.
How loud I am depends who I am near,
It’s not an insult, just my own fear.
I don’t mean to be rude or come off wrong;
I just don’t always feel like I belong.
I’m an adventure some want to embark,
But usually they’ll leave some sort of mark.
Some fold me at their favorite times,
and some highlight their favorite lines.
Strength helps me to stand,
although some may find my mind bland.
My pages are wrinkled by other’s doing,
Due to needed reviewing.
My own mind can hurt me worse than a blade,
And I must admit that sometimes I need aid.
But who I want help from is very selective,
And I always wish to know their own perspective.
For one must read to be read,
and one must lead to be led.
Following has never been my style,
But I rarely find listening a trial.
I’m not a classic, or a romance novel,
if you don’t care, don’t expect me to grovel.
My story is the pages I’ve found and the words I bleed,
I’m not a picture book but all you have to do is read.