Just because I am not an open book,
doesn’t mean you gotta rip off my pages
or steal my chapters.
I am for one thing, one & only thing;
me, myself and nobody else.
I may be of little substance sometimes,
poorly expressed and vaguely uttered
but my feet knows where to
walk my own story.
Don’t confuse me with my ink,
or these ragged sheets,
or the number of years, months
weeks or days you’ve come to know me
because like numbers all these lose
their value once counted.
Don’t tell me what or who I am because
long before you, I’ve already been told