Books are like people,
Bent,
Broken,
and folded in places,

They're judged by their covers,
What they look like,
How they act,
Their name,

So the older, uglier ones get thrown away,
Just because they are not perfect anymore?
And the shiny, newer ones replace them,
Just because they look better and never have been torn?

But there's a special place beneath all this misery,
Somewhere hidden deep beneath the covers,
Where a true story develops,

They may look boring from the outside,
But when you really get to know them,
Read their pages,
Learn their story,

You'll find the truth,
And the truth is beautiful.