The Story Teller

It moves
The pages turning in the morning sun
The words sinking in
It wanders freely and quietly
Rewriting history
When I’m not around
It talks, it thinks
It lies or shares truths
Telling all the world’s history
The saviour is its melody
Its eyes never ending
You can feel its heavy breath
Hidden in the shadows
Are secrets unfolding
But only to the pure-hearted
Will it share its secrets with
Some begin to hate
Ruining its harmony
But it’s now quiet
As it’s waiting for its next victim.