I enter Barnes and Noble
Greeted by the familiar scent
Of printed paper
And Starbucks coffee
As i leaf through pages
And skim through stories
I think about my own life
Compare it to the plethora of books
Sitting on the shelves
I am a book
A book
With many pages
Many chapters
To really know me
One would have to look beyond
This cover
This hard exterior
And learn my story
Before judging me
Would I be a comedy or a tragedy?
Perhaps a little bit of both
Or maybe…
Something COMPLETELY different
I wonder…
Would people find me interesting?
Captivating?
Or, after skimming through my pages
Would they quickly lose interest
And move on to something else?
Who would actually take the time
To look closely
To read between the lines?
To get to know…
Me?
Most would glance over me
Check out the ones
With brighter covers
Choose those
That are easier to read
For who would bother
Trying to analyze something
When there’s a whole collection
Of simpler choices?
Maybe someday
Someone will take me
Not for the cover or the design
But for the story within
Until then
I will sit on this dusty shelf
And wait.