The Book of Colours

They say I am an open book, or am I some scattered lose pages for someone to take a look…
Watching myself down from the shelf, I am waiting to be held and to be read.
What an irony of a book that I may be.
With no preface in me and no summary in the end.

The beginning of me is written in white.
I am a pure soul with innocence at my best.
Read me more and you will find me red.
Colored in love, full of passion, with dreams pointing ahead.

Turn some pages and I look some blue.
A little pale, messy and wry;
Many things bother me and some make me cry.
I give up every day; it’s getting hard to try.
I keep forgetting things; I yell a lot
Yes! I annoy.

Coming towards the end, I am gloomy, dark and grey.
I don’t remember you, but I want me in your prayers.
I seldom see sunshine, nor I watch the rain.
Overwhelmed with my own share, I hardly feel your pain.
Left with no choices; no losses mo gains.

As you read my last page; am sure your eyes are wet
I see you are ready, your blurbs are set.
Go on! Read them to all; Go tell them the things that I missed hearing at all.
Like every other read book, I shine on that perfect shelf of wall.
Watching for others to get started and to be read! To be placed next to me on that shiny shelf of the wall!!

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