Book

A book bought from a bookstore
A book read until sore
All parts worn
Except
some pieces of paper ripped to the floor
Out of how much the words shattered the core
Out of not wanting to read anymore
The parts liked, were, in the book, kept in
The parts that weren't, were thrown in the bin
Because the misery of recalling a sin
Was like the heart'd been punctured by a pin
I told the others about the danger that lay
In reading the parts, that always ruined your day
But when I thought
No one was looking
I went to the bin
And read the bad parts
Again and again
Till I wished I was in the bin