#WritcoPoemChallenge
My life is an open book,
That led me through every nook,
And every corner of discovery,
Of life's long journey
Alas, I end up in the palace of bones
near the baths made of stone
I can't wash myself because I've got no soap
There are no altars or thrones
In these syncopated tones
I can't wash myself because I've got no hope