• Something worn; something torn
    Yet never really fading

    Looks of unimportance
    But secrets kept inside

    In a small blue folder
    Beneath my seat

    Stuffed with paper
    Dog-eared and scratched

    No one thinks to open it
    Not even just a crack

    I sit all day in hopes that someone will find me
    And save me from this lonely sea

    But no one dares to open it
    Not even just a crack