The Library Within

We are all just libraries, aren’t we?

Bound in pages no one can see.

Stories tucked behind locked spines,

Waiting for someone to read between the lines.

Shelves filled with whispers, ink-stained fears,

Volumes of laughter, chapters of tears.

Marked with creases, frayed at the ends,

Yet longing for eyes that understand.

Some books stay closed, dust settles deep,

Secrets we guard, promises we keep.

But one day, maybe, hands will find,

The words we’ve hidden, left behind.

And when they do, may they turn each page,

With gentle touch and patient grace.

For we are more than what we show—

A world of stories yet to glow.