Written book

I’m an open, but written book

I have no secrets,
I need no choices,
I let life try to take a chance on me

To read chapter by chapter,
all my pages
and serve me all that I could ever need

Then watch me run in circles,
from end to end,
not useful, nor useless

Just joyfully running about,
pretending to chase
the blessings it gave

But,
as I already said

I’m an open, but also written book
and it’s up to life to take a look

at the script it already made
at the promise it already gave