Books Are Easier to Read Than People

Books are easier to read than people.
Words on a page hold more merit
   than expressions on a face.
Lines and stanzas and paragraphs.
They have form,
   linking together to form coherent memories.

But people-
   they make no logical sense.
Their decisions are fueled by hidden motives.
Their faces pose as masks,
   the closest contender to showing their true expression.
Mouths distort in upward angles,
   the cheek muscles straining to maintain their shape.
Their eyes squint and wrinkle
   in half crescent moons,
almost in a mocking gesture.

Books are straightforward.
They play a game with the reader,
   the wittiest may find their true intent.
Every games has rules,
   and this game I know well.

But people-
people lie until their faces nearly break,
   straining against the muscles.
They break hearts, and speak false truths
   dripping in disdain.
They play games too,
   but these games don’t have rules.
The handbook changes
   as they change their minds.

I like playing games,
   but yours I have yet to enjoy.

Writer’s Note:

For some context, I wrote this a while ago after going through a bit of drama with a now ex-friend. Aside from that, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but lately I’ve been posting a lot of older poetry, mainly because I’ve honestly been running into a bit of writer’s block. Which entirely sucks, nonetheless though I have lots of filler poetry so I won’t have to take a hiatus anytime soon. Hope you all enjoy taking a glimpse into my poetry journal. ❤


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