~+~

Replaced.

Oh Little Red Book,
Filled with writings of my deepest desire,
Will you ever question me?
Or even mock, the things I write in you?

Can you be trusted?
The one thing that knows me most,
Is this little red book,
That sits on my lap – open and ready.

I take my pen,
And I began to write – feeling unsure,
Can you be trusted?
I ask myself again as I’ve asked you.

I think you’re alive,
You reply due to my request,
And it is this simple task,
That scares me most.

As I question you,
Words appear on your face,
Words of wisdom and wonder,
And questions of your own.


Ones I cannot explain,
Ones, which don’t have answers,
This frustrates me – angers me,
I snap my pen in two.


You’re not human,
You don’t have feelings,
You don’t have an imagination,
Or even sound.

I stand up – you fall to the floor,
Your spine breaks,
I tear at you and crush you
You're worthless now.

But, I have a book mum gave t’me,
Which doesn’t reply to questions,
My special – new book,
Bright Blue.

~+~