ℓєανιиgЯєαℓιту

I have a bookshelf for a heart
And ink runs through my veins
I'll write you into my story
With the typewriter in my brain
My bookshelf's getting crowded
With all the stories that I penned
Of all the people who flicked through my pages
But closed the book before the end
And there's one pushed to the very back
With it's title in my finest writing
"The one's who lost my trust"
There's books I'm scared to open
And books that I don't close
Stories of every person Iv'e met
Stretched out in endless rows
Some people have only a sentence
While others held a main part
Thousands of inky footprints
That thev'e left across my heart
You might wonder why I do this
Why wrote of people I once knew?
Because I hope that one day I'll mean enough
For someone to write about me too...