Girl behind the counter,

of true love I am a doubter,

but you’ve caught my eye,

with your charms ever so shy,

madly I chase after you,

sadly I return, feeling blue,

but do net fret,

I need not catch you with a net,

with pen to paper,

I’m afraid I’ll now never “see you later,”

now you’re up on the shelf above,

added to the collection I so love.

Down down, onto the page,

where I release all my rage,

a poem, a look,

next a book,

and then it’s done,

that’s when I’ve won.

Immortality, it’s what we crave,

we want it so badly, we’ll change how we behave,

but with my gift, there’s no need,

here’s some words that you should heed,

there’s only one way to have immortality,

accept my gift, lose the morality,

please, accept what I give,

up on my shelf you surely will live.

pen going

ink flowing

fear showing

tears flowing

body going

body flowing

collection growing

I wonder what must it be like,

sitting up there all day,

watching from above as us mortals play,

thoughts buzzing to and fro,

causing the literature inside to grow,

the shelf must be a curious place,

especially with the newly added face.

The jig is up,

I’m about to throw up,

my collection burned,

all but two books were left unturned,

they’re at the door,

they’ll be in before four,

but do not worry,

even if I am in a hurry,

I will live on,

I won’t be gone,

words are immortal,

and now I am too—

what is this place?

the last thing I remember was a chase,

wait, did I just rhyme?

this situation is far from sublime,

I did it again!

now I’m trapped in some strangers den,

but, why can’t I move?

I hope my situation will improve.

I’ve grown tired of this rhyming,

they hardly have good timing,

they don’t even make sense,

my anger is immense,

when will I be freed?

it’s freedom I need.

I’ve come to understand what I am,

and why my kidnapper is not on the lam,

I can see without eyes,

snuffed out are my cries,

unable am I to rise,

it, I don’t want to cede,

because it I cannot believe.

a fire,

growing higher,

a new desire,

a release from this emotional mire,

if only I could leap,

then I could be free from my defeat,

the others now ash,

thrown into the fire with a crash,

at the agressor I stared,

why was it that I was spared?

a new feeling,

far beyond healing,

this wanting of death,

now it’s all that’s left,

I sit and wait,

doomed to this eternal fate,

I neither live or die,

unable to cry,

unable to smile,

unable to walk a mile,

this is my truth,

the book you’re reading is the proof,

its name is jenny,

and so was mine.

this familiarity,

it brought me this moment of clarity?

Ah, I see,

you’re the only other in this world who is truly free,

how could one be so amiss,

in this, the most pure of bliss?

you call it bliss?

a curse, that’s what I call this,

a hatred unlike any other I’ve felt,

the feeling would make my skin welt,

but skin is one of the many things I have not,

instead I have leather, which I dread a lot.

No, no, can’t you see?

you have only the option to agree,

we’re history that lives,

an opportunity that no one now gives,

humans only retell history, nothing more,

you’ve ascended from being a common whore,

into the ages, for the rest of time,

done with only a mere rhyme,

and if you can’t handle the price,

then go back to living with the mice.

living? That must be a joke,

live as a book? I’d rather choke,

spending my days locked behind these pages,

they’re no more than papery cages,

what I would give to have my life back,

I’d happily lop off an arm or leg, things I already lack.

That’s a shame,

you only have yourself to blame,

if your mind was more open,

perhaps you’d be less broken,

I’ve grown tired now,

although first I will take a bow,

we’ve put on quite a show,

for these strangers we do not know,

and with that I bid adieu,

I hope you seek to build yourself anew.

I hope you burn,

so your pages remain unturned,

and while you’re at it take me with you,

for me there is no building anew.