Story
If I could write a story
And get lost in it forever
Wouldn’t that be the day
The day my worries would go away
Oh we humans are so naive
Isn’t life but a story we write?
By ourselves; for ourselves
To live without stealth
We complain and we whine
Even though there is no line
Between reality and story
Because reality can be the story
As days go by, we flip pages
As choices are made, we run out of ink
As sorrow is felt, a salty flood on the page
As fear is hoarded, shaky hands scribble words out of sync
We are not authors, yet we are
Perhaps if we knew what we actually wanted
Out of this story
We would’ve found glory
But is it over yet? I think not
We still breathe; and think
With or without fiends
Carve or paint, no word is quaint
Copyright © Shreya Ln | Year Posted 2021
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