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.