I no longer write on your seemingly blank pages simply because I was tired of going unread
I stopped writing my notes in you when
You got too busy reading others
Your cover still inflawed but your pages
They are burning
Holes are being poked and you seem less than concerning
Are used to write my own unknown feelings behind the two walls
You had bind together at the spine
And I never told a lie
But never really explained why
I was happy since I was given empty pages
But only in the beginning
Little did I know others wrote with invisible ink
And I to wear to one day be just that
Invisible