<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=364536" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Open Book's Monologue Part 4 Bookkeeping</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Regular written books or a regular written novel<br>Could sell<br>But each copy would essentially be the same<br>And the words stagnant, unable to change, in a sense lame<br>Because they cannot move or rearrange<br>They just never change </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But I guess even though I'm an open book that's where we differ<br>My words do change, and my past is rewritten<br>When my memories become hazy or hidden<br>Suddenly I've changed my past, said something different to her<br>Or him, or supposedly done an action that never did occur. <br>When witnesses balk and there is no vindication<br>Nor affirmation<br>It's hard to keep my memories truthfully<br>Call me a liar for changing them, but that's me</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bookkeeping is near impossible<br>Because rewriting my beginnings is possible<br>It's hard to remember what's fact or fiction<br>When this novel is just a fantastical rendition<br>Of what I think my life is or thought my life was<br>Not what it really is or really was<br>I think it's because<br>Those unhappy memories of the past ought<br>Just to be forgot<br>So I choose (o so subconsciously) to rewrite them<br>Only to find they've made my destiny<br>They've made me- me </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It's funny that I write of bookkeeping<br>And changing the beginning of the book<br>When I feel so strongly<br>That such things are impossible for me<br>So in a sense this poem is a contradiction <br>But then maybe my changes are just my perception<br>Of my story because I cannot look back <br>So I guess I'm wrong... future and past are stained in black<br>Because as a book I could change what I think<br>Maybe even float not sink<br>But that's just my perception, because my story<br>Is actually<br>The Immutable tragedy<br>The tragedy of me<br>And past... present... future<br>They won't endure<br>One day pages will crumble to dust</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But I think... I'll go first... Actually I think.... I think... <br>I must.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=David+Knox">David Knox</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=364536" data-title="Open Book's Monologue Part 4 Bookkeeping de David Knox" data-description="Regular written books or a regular written novel Could sell But each copy would essentially be the same And the words stagnant, unable to change, in a sense lame Because they cannot move or rearrange They just never change But I guess even thoug..."></div> </div> </div>

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