You hold more than a few poems,
And crude scribblings.

You hold my weaknesses,
My strengths,
My joys and sorrows.

Within your pages dwell more
Than lead and ink.

The sentences in your veins
Have more meaning
Then you could possibly hold.

You carry my voice,
My silence,
My faith,
My doubts.

You hold my thoughts,
And soul,
My heart,
And Life.