The sad truth is, I'm an open book.
My poems are the pages.
The secrets of my heart rest in these words.
What makes me laugh, what makes me cry...
Even the things that hurt to write, that haunt my pen.
The pages of my notebook knew my heart before I did.
My pen translates the truths and hurts of my heart.
Anyone can write words on a page, the truth is harder.
Everyone knows my life, my story.
I'll tell anyone about me if they ask.
I'm an open book, I have always said that.
But the truth makes me wish I wasn't.
Because the sad truth is, I've torn the pages.
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