Her coverless-tattered state proved the journeys she had gone through.
Her old purple spine was scratched and bent,
Yet still beautifully intact.
The woman who brought her up filled her with stories,
Delicately placing each powerful word,
Gently building her up page by page,
Giving her a story to call her own.
She told her story to each reader,
Each page turn,
Every emotion.
Her pains in every paragraph,
Her charisma in every character,
Her love in every line,
Her tears in every tear.
She was worn
Yet brand new.
She held a strong font,
Each bold showing her power to change something,
Each italization expressing her importance.
Every time her story was told if affected a new person.
Crinkled and worn pages gave life a new meaning,
Provided a new definition of friendship, gave a new reason to live,
Provided a new reason to love.
She taught everyone something,
Giving away her everything.
She was judged for her looks by many,
But loved for her contents just as much.
