I am a broken person
Like a book with missing pages
I'm thrown at the back of the shelf where no one can see me
And I've been stuck there for ages
Then one afternoon I felt a hand
I didn't know I was cold until her warmth touched me
She took me with her everywhere she went
I tried to tell her that I had missing pages but she never listened to me
She kept trying to figure me out
And I liked my pages being turned
After hopeless tries and countless nights she finally gave up
And put me down
She'd pass by me every once in a while
And brush her warm fingers over me
But I know that she will never pick me up again.