I started to write a book about my life.
But each page, was full of my sorrowful strife.
So I put down my pen, and gave myself a rest.
This is what I call, putting myself to a test.
Now every word I write has to have some kind of meaning, or some kind of past.
I bit on my tongue, for another type of contrast.
Whoever wants to pick up this book and give me your truth.
Your the one I will listen to, your the one I choose.
©terrylin53
T