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It is my book. My face in the book. Me crying, me laughing. My soul hanging out. Out on the wall, out!

It is my life.  It’s all in the book. Me showing, me hiding. But who is to look? Into the very me, me into them, in?

Amazed, bored, shamed,  adored – it’s all in the book. Here I am. That’s what it took. It’s all on my face, I shout!

Face in the frame. Frame in the book. Connecting frames. Life’s sorrows and fames. Is it me in the outbound bin?

It is my book. Or is it a hook? Tracing me, for others to see?