A tale of pages

A cover thats so fancy
Ornately gilded and bejewelled
Yet your pages mostly empty
And it seems your ink has pooled

Recycling well known images
In a cliched sea of brands
Picture perfect images
Airbrushed to meet demands

My covers worn and weathered
For its felt the season's touch
Dog eared from many readings
Made to bypass history's clutch

One hand made into many
The breeze blows voices in this ear
Stories spill into the borders
Then their lost and disappear