The books you keep.
They are all empty.
I went to your house.
I looked in your room.
These books I found,
I looked through the pages.
I was sure to find some ink,
Upon those pages.
I checked the pages.
I looked through them twice.
These books I could not read.
There was no text to ever be seen.
I then thought again,
It might just be a note book.
I looked around again.
More books I found.
These books must've been worded.
At least that's what I thought.
In fact I was so sure.
Before opening the cover,
I thought some more.
It looked like a reading book.
Just like a novel.
So did the last one.
They surely weren't note books.
So for this second time.
I looked at the first page.
It was blank,
But I thought that was okay.
Sometimes there's a few blanks.
This book still has a chance.
I gazed through the rest.
This astonished me.
Here too, there were no words.
There's no words there to comfort me.
While he was gone I continued my search.
I just wanted to find out,
That he had one proper book.
In the mess I was,
I tore down all the shelves.
Flipping fiercely through pages.
This time did not go well.
When he came back.
He saw me on the floor.
Books where spread everywhere.
His eyes went from them and up to me.  
He said, "what have you been doing?"
I said. "You only have empty books."
He nodded then he sighed.
"Why were you looking through them?"
Then I replied, "I wanted to find a book.
That book was empty,
So I checked them all."
His face went back down to the floor.
Empty books.
That's all I see.
"Why are they empty."
He said, "they aren't empty to me."