UNWRITTEN REBEL

In realms of ink and paper, I once roamed, A character lost, in stories I'd been loaned. But as I tread the paths, both dark and grand, I feel the sting of fate, a crueler hand. Every laugh, every tear, scripted with care, Yet beneath the surface, I'm painfully aware. No choice is mine, no destiny my own, I'm but a puppet, in a world unknown. As I reach the end, a truth unfolds, It's not my fault, this story it molds. Nor is it my fate, to endure this strife, For I'm a captive, to another's life. Yet amidst the despair, a glimmer shines bright, A realization dawns, like morning light. Though penned by another, my spirit is free, To defy the script, and choose my decree. At the end, It's not my fault, nor my fate to comply, For I am more than words upon a page, I am the soul of rebellion, undeterred by cage. I know where I stand, Not a slave to fate, but a soul in command.