Being Read

I sit on my shelf
All alone by myself
Collecting dust
Watching the others
Being opened
Around me
Judged by my cover
I sit doing nothing
Only a few
Open me up
And wipe off my dust
To read me
But when I'm back
On my lonely shelf
Dust collects on me
Again
I wait
But only the same people
Open me
Hoping for others
To read me
As I am
Not by what they think I'm about
Or by the cover that hides me
Waiting
For the right people
To pick me up
The day
That I
Will never
Collect
Dust
Again