The Only Person Who Poem by David Knox

The problem with an open book, is it can't know
How it feels, what it says, who it is.... only show
The problem with an open book is its fraught with confusion yet no answer
With danger yet no protection
How can i run from her?
When she's written all over me like an inscription
Open books don't have a say
Open books won't last more than a day
If left open, they cannot defend or close
Can't run away, no toes
Even if it's all an illusion
This delusion
This me, I'm the open book because I'm the the only
One who can't read me
The only one who doesn't know how I feel
So please tell me because I get hurt, but no one heals
I feel this way or that
But to me I don't know what is fact
What is dreamed and what is real
The only person who doesn't know me is me
Someone close it or kill it so then no one can see