Hell Poem by John Zeller

Lost, epitome, castaway like an old book.
Pages torn, dog eared, coffee stained and missing.
The authors note gives a glimpse of almost psychotic yearning for companionship.
A rubber band binds the pages together like a murderer to his accomplice.
White almost brown pages with black print, Maybe?
Black pages with a white almost brown outline, Could be?
Lost but not forgotten they say, but forgotten just the same.
Two thousand and two and counting a never ending loop.
'Hell' is the title of the biography and I its custodian.