I am a Book

I am a book
silent until took
from its shelf
hard to read from the outside
simple when opened
filled with stories untold
just waiting for someone to unfold
bound in paper or
bound in place
damaged by careless hands
nursed by those still caring for knowledge
torn so easily never the same again
and why, what is there to gain
pain that leaves a stain?
the one so torn,worn,forlorn
is the one glad to be born
so well loved read a billion times over
even if some didn`t bother