You read me out loud
Like all my complexities
Can be contained in
Just a few of your simple pages.
You spell me out
As if you can predict my actions
But I will not conform
To your predefined bounds.
You try to figure me out
Like I can be found
Within the content that you write
But I hide between the lines.
You fill up your pages
By deciphering my mystery
That I keep obscured
By my invisible parenthesis.
You have me copy written
So your assessment must be true
But I’ll continue to tell you:
Don’t judge a book by its cover.