She opened her book
Slowly at first
Didn’t really like how it looked
But she gave it a verse
And inside her brain
Next to the secrets she’d hid
Was a place they say sane
Could never comfortably live
Driven out by the notions, implications of joy
When asked where it went, it only stood there annoyed
But back to the story
Her mind was in awe
Trapped in a web
Full of character flaws
But halfway through the book
It all screeched to a halt
The words stung and they burned
Like a wound full of salt
The pages all laughed
As paragraphs cut like knives
And she wanted to stop
But control had long left her mind
So she read until the final page was wet
Dripping with all her sorrows and regret
And she’d vowed to never make a mistake quite the same
But to be truly in love, sometimes mistakes must be made.