I like leather bound books


    Filled with papyrus pages


    Covered in pounce dried ink


    I like leather bound books


    Maybe that’s hard to understand?


    Because a leather bound book I think of


    Is not the same book you think of


    Nobody thinks like I think or you think


    And I just have to accept thatTaken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Because lately it’s been easier to lie than explain


    That my brain operates on a different wavelength


    And I have these thoughts that don’t work on paper


    Because I don’t think with the words that people use


    You can’t copy and paste creativity


    Am I the only one who can tell when things sound pat?


    I write to survive and I share just because


    Even though I’m afraid of the hate and the laughs


    Because fear is cheap


    But at least love is free


    And that was so cheesy I threw up a bit


    But I still believe it


    So I guess I disgust myself


    I don’t write for me


    Because I don’t deserve good things


    I can’t explain why


    But I like leather bound books


    Waiting on a shelf and wanting to be special