The book of life,
we all write ours.
Some gently and some with a rush,
familiar is melancholy and joyous flowers.
Your book of life,
no one realizes its truth.
They will get addled and wonder,
until they read in between the lines.
Beautiful sadness will pour,
Don't let it ruin your book.
Shelter it with unbiased happiness,
and smile for not to be drenched.
I have yet to finish it,
Everyone does someday.
But till that day,
write, write and remember,
your precious book of life.