Despair is a book

A book left unfinished

The decaying hard cover protection,

the remains of empty pages that will never be filled.

Left wondering when the rest of the words will return

Will they return?

Drowning in thick dust

No room to breathe

A book that cannot be read,

cannot fulfill its purpose.

A book is meant to be read and enjoyed.

No hope of being. 

In the dark corners of despair,

Books with hopeful beginnings,

Anguish comes and takes their stories,

Leaves nothing behind 

But scraps of what it was meant to be.

No one will fill the blanks on the pages

The book will forever remain unfinished.

But, the words left on the body of the book are still there

The intentions and meanings remain

value still holds true.

No one may ever finish it,

but the time spent is there to look back to. 

The book will someday be found

it will be read

it will find purpose

Someday